#even though it was never canonically confirmed that he’s even dead | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiana12113 · 2 months ago

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⁺⊹RED DEAD REDEMPTION HEAD CANONS⊹⁺

➤ Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, John Marston, Kieran Duffy x Fem!Reader

Note: I’m not quite sure if these are still considered “head canons” since I’ve definitely made this wordy.

(ﾟﾛﾟ;) This is my first post here in Tumblr, despite lurking here for a while. XD

Also Author, a month later: I’ve posted this merely a month ago and I feel inexplicable cringe. thank you for reading

WC: 5.7k

Warnings: Major Character Death (Spoilers), Illness, Profanity, Mentions of Injury, Sex, Alcohol, Violence

References:

♥︎ ; fluff ♣︎ ; angst ♦︎ ; general ♠︎ ; smut

ARTHUR MORGAN

♥︎ ; When he is offered to go somewhere, or to do anything in general, he always says his signature comment. “Hmm, I’m not sure. Let me ask my wife first.”

♥︎ ; He says it every single time. There is no day he doesn’t say this statement. Some people find it annoying, like, per sé — John, when he asks Arthur to go steal something with him and Arthur isn’t in the mood. He rolls his eyes in annoyance, and crosses his arms, “Oh, are you comin’ or not?” The other half, though, do like it, like Mary Beth — who smiles and chuckles, “Of course, Mister Morgan.”

♥︎ ; One time, he was out in Saint Denis without you. He just came for the trapper and some things in the general store, when a woman came to talk to him. She walked slowly along the wooden plank floor, and whispered, “Oh aren’t you just what a lady dreams of?” Arthur immediately knew what she was after. He looks at her with a deadpan expression, saying, “That so? Damn, it might be true. I should ask my wife for confirmation, huh, madam?” And she got the message. It pissed her off, while Arthur chuckled and shook his head.

♥︎ ; He also likes flashing his wedding ring a lot. He thinks it’s some trophy (which it is). He never takes it off, even in showering.

♦︎ ; Ever since you got married, he’d become more reserved in missions or going outside. He didn’t want to lose you. Didn’t want to lose the peaceful life he was close to getting. Plus, every time he did, you would reprimand him.

♦︎ ; He met you at a café and bakery shop that you owned. He was entranced the moment he met you (which was closing time, and he was covered in blood). That night, he’d become a loyal customer, always getting to order the same coffee and bread every week.

♥︎ ; At that time, he’d often come back to camp smiling, and they’d know. “Who’s the lucky girl, Arthur?” Hosea asks, with a small smile as he lifts his head from the newspaper. “Nothin’, Hosea.”

♥︎ ; “Hey, miss… I’d reckon the coffee’d taste better if it was served with you.” He tried to flirt once, and you thought it was assault. He was almost permanently banned that time. When he told this story to Karen. The girl laughed her ass off. “Arthur… You’re a lost cause.”

♥︎ ; He constantly has baby fever, when he’s with you, you’d find him staring at Jack often. “Now imagine one of our own, I’d… I’d be so happy.” He’s smiling like an idiot. You refuse and he pouts. “Oh, come on, darlin’…” But he never forces you. It’s just sometimes he’s so cute it feels as if you need to do it.

♣︎ ; He is often unaware of his own looks and looks down on himself. When he gets sight of a mirror, he can’t help but sigh and comment. “Yer becoming old. Old and ugly, Morgan.” It’s one problem you two are working on together.

♣︎ ; “You just… don’t get it. Of course you think that. Yer my wife, darlin’…” He frowns. It’s a heartbreaking thing to hear, since you’d do just about anything for this man.

♦︎ ; People would describe him as an angry old man. Well, back then. When you and him became a thing, he tried his best not for his emotions to get over him. The only thing he screams “Damn it… for God’s sake!” now is when the animals are eaten and escaped again (since you two live in a ranch.)

♠︎ ; Arthur likes to guide you through sex, praising you quietly. He’s quite nonverbal other than that. But trust he will always make sure that you are comfortable, and your needs are being fed. “Ah, good girl.”

♠︎ ; He’s on top of you while his right hand is gripping the headboard of the bed, to which it is shaking. He’s not rough, though, he makes sure he’s gentle enough and has a fear of accidentally hurting you. He’s slow, taking in every moment and every inch of you and how your body twitches and arches. When he’s drunk, though, maybe it’s a different story. It brings out a different Arthur. A little wobly in his actions, but delivers either way.

♥︎ ; When he found out you were pregnant, it was the happiest day of his life. Oh, he smiled like an idiot, holding your hands and repeatedly saying “Really?” “Seriously— are ya serious?” “Really?” “Yer pregnant— really?” You laughed, nodding and nodding and nodding. “..’M sorry, love, I… I jus’ I can’t believe it.”

♥︎ ; He’d plan so much. Like he’d be very overreacting to the point he already bought clothes for BOTH genders. He didn’t care. A boy, a girl… It doesn’t matter. It was his child. With you. And that made him the luckiest man in the planet.

♥︎ ; When you two are laying in your shared bed, he’d put his head on your stomach (even if it wasn’t even that big yet) and coo. “Are ya… Are ya there? Oh, pa’s… pa’s excited to meet ya. So much,” He murmured, kissing your stomach gently. “Pa loves you and ma so much.” He added, circling your stomach as he sighs, smiling. It’s heart warming. He’s so excited.

♦︎ ; The journey of pregnancy wasn’t easy, of course, but he was always there. He’d wake up in the middle of the night to accompany you to relieve yourself, or would offer to clean and cook. You almost lost your life in giving birth, and it scared the hell of out Arthur, holding your hands and pleading. It seemed he wasn’t that bad of a man, though, as you live and have a healthy baby girl.

♥︎ ; All the pages of his journal contain you, your face, pretty much. He never lets you read it, though. “No, darlin’, it’s private,” He says gently, but when you give him about two long “please”s, his resolve would probably crumble then.

♥︎ ; He is a girl dad. Proudly so. He would lift your little girl (and you too) and spin you both around, laughing. He would learn how to tie pigtails for his girl. He would teach her the colors of the rainbow, how to draw and write, how to identify animals for when she’s old enough to go hunting. But oh, boy, he’d be one hell of a protective dad, though. When miss grows up into adolescence, he’d make sure no boys are near her. “No boys? Alright, you can go.”

♣︎ ; The day he finds out he has tuberculosis, though, he doesn’t say it to you and your daughter. He keeps it inside, hoping that you two wouldn’t find out — he didn’t want you stressing over him. He knew his time would come, so he’d rather spend it all with you without worrying you.

♣︎ ; But it doesn’t get better, it gets worse. And you notice, but he shuts you off. “It’s nothin’, darlin’… Just…” He coughs, clutching his chest. “Arthur… You know you can’t hide this from me. Tell me, please.” You pleaded, hand on his back as you waited for his coughing fit to finish. His palm had blood. “I… ‘m sorry, darlin’… I jus’ don’t want you to worry ‘bout me.” “Oh, you fool… You should have told me, Arthur. You…” “I’ve tuberculosis— says the doctor. I—I don’t want you to raise her alone… I don’t wanna die, but…” You hug him, tears flowing down your eyes. “Shut up, will you? You’ll live. You’ll live, Arthur.”

HOSEA MATTHEWS

♦︎ ; After Bessie, he never thought he’d like— let alone love someone again. You; who had reminded him of her in so many ways. At first, when you had found out he used to be married, you closed yourself off in respect. He respected this decision, after all, it was what he wanted. But he found himself growing restless. He saw her in you. But you were you, different, and yet, so alike.

♥︎ ; In some warm, nice mornings, he’d dance with you.

Put Your Head on my Shoulder

Can’t Help falling in Love with you It would be sweet and romantic, even though both of you are now a little slow.

♥︎ ; He calls you ‘darling’, and doesn’t fail to compliment your beauty first thing in the morning. “Good Morning, Darling…” He grunts a little as he pushes himself near you, kissing your forehead. “Beautiful as ever.”

♥︎ ; He loves to braid your hair, or any other hairstyles that he’s learned. “Mhm… this one looks good on you.”

♦︎ ; Honorable mention, he’d be the type to wear those wizard blue pajamas at night. You, on the other hand, would wear those fluffy extravagant night dresses.

♥︎ ; Before sleeping, he’ll likely be reading mystery novels. Both of you like them, but instead of reading it individually— you found that him explaining the plot to you was easier and better. He’s a bit of a nerd, and you like seeing his face light up when you ask, “So who do you think did it?” He’ll gladly explain to you for hours before finding out you’ve already slept halfway through his ramblings.

♣︎ ; “I’m getting old, darling,” “So am I, Hosea. We both are.” “Fair point… I just…” “I just want to live out the rest of my days with you. I imagine I’ll probably leave you first.” “Don’t say that.” “When I do…” “Hosea.”

JAVIER ESCUELLA

♥︎ ; He loves singing songs he made for you while playing the guitar. “This one’s for you, hmm?” He smiles, and that look of surprise in your face always gets him. It brings a warm feeling to his heart that can’t be explained.

♥︎ ; Pet names! Pet names! Pet names! He just can’t get enough of it. But oh, when you do the same to him, he suddenly loses all his charm and flare, and turns into a puddle of putty. That’s how bad he has it for you.

♥︎ ; Despite playing the guitar for years, he’ll often complain about the pain in his fingertips after he plays. It doesn’t really hurt, of course, due to the built up callouses, but he just wants your care and attention. He especially likes it when you kiss them. “Ow, ow… My love, my fingertips are bleeding.” They aren’t. “Will you please kiss it to make it better?” He says dramatically. You, of course, indulge.

♥︎ ; He’d teach you to dance. “You don’t know how to dance? Well, come here, I’ll teach you.” “My ma taught it to me, told me… I should know how to. It’s a skill. And to swoon women, ah?” He chuckles. You roll your eyes, as your fingers are intertwined and he guides your feet through the pace of Dutch’s music. “You’re a natural, hermosa.” (You were stepping on his feet the whole time.)

♥︎ ; He’s quite protective of you, and even though he doesn’t show it, gets jealous easily. One time, you two were in a saloon due to a mission, and this one guy approached you— his gaze revealing his intentions already. “Hey, darling. You look like a real fine woman, hmm?” Javier immediately notices this but knows you can handle this yourself. He tries to play it cool, nonchalantly observing the interaction. You reply with a lifted brow. “Not interested.” “Aw, come on, darling. Aren’t you at least a little lonely?” And in a swift action, Javier is next to you already. “Didn’t you hear her, asshole? She’s married, okay?” He was ready to throw hands.

♥︎ ; “Oh, I wasn’t aware we were married,” You said jokingly the way back to the camp, striding on the horses at a calm pace. He scoffed. Every time he got reminded of the interaction, he could swear a vein would pop out. “No, no yet.” He replies.

♥︎ ; Another moment you remember is when you two went to fetch something for Pearson. You were buying something, and it seems the shop keeper had taken a liking to you. “You want that one? Sure, it’s for free, my lady.” Javier’s ears perked, his eyes from the sky suddenly to you two. “I don’t mind a little other payment.” The shopkeeper continues, the underlying statement obvious even for an idiot. Javier, irritated, walks closer in a fast pace. “Ay, ay! That’s my wife, pendejo! ¿Eres una idiota, ah? ¿Tienes un deseo de muerte? Do you want a knife in your throat? Ha? Fucking— Hijo de puta!” You took him away, whispering to him, “Ay… Javier, be quiet. We’re supposed to keep a low profile in Rhodes,” He mumbles back, “I can’t be quiet when these assholes think they’ve got a chance.”

♥︎ ; He often is very conscious on how he looks. This man has a wide selection of clothes in his wardrobe, and they are all equally loved and important to him. When people in camp start to realize his beloved poncho is not being worn, he just points a finger at you, since you wore it. He didn’t mind if you stole his clothes, rather, it was a quite intimate thing that he cherished. He loved seeing them on you.

♥︎ ; Carves your initials in his precious knives. This means a lot to him.

♠︎ ; This man cannot keep his hands to himself, never. One moment you’re doing something niche around the camp, like reading a book— and the next he’s right behind you, hands snaking on your waist. He tugs you closer to him, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, squinting his eyes a little as he tries to read the printed words. “What’re you reading, querida?” He murmurs, his warm breath tingling around your neck. From the get-go, you knew what he was trying to do. “That book more important than me?” He takes the book swiftly as you look at him in confusion. “You know I wish those hands were doing something else.” His gaze darts over to your lips, as he licks his own in response. God, this man. He finds that the risk of getting caught while in the act is more exciting.

♠︎ ; He likes when you tug his hair, his little ponytail behind him. His favorite thing to do is murmur sweet nothings in your ear, all dirty and the sort; as he hands work magic on you and his lips nibble on your ear’s shell. He couldn’t care less if you two were still fully-clothed, as well. In fact, it was better for him. His hands are the best part of him, capable of letting out noises from your mouth you didn’t know you could make. His eyes bore into you, half-lidded, while his mouth is slightly agape, struggling to make any words while his fingers push in and out in a rhythmic manner. It feels so good, the sound of wet skin against itself added more heat through your lower abdomen.

♠︎ ; Javier loses it when he’s about to finish. The only thing he can do it mumble and occasionally moan out a few incoherent Spanish words, repeating your name over and over again. “Ah.. mi amor.. E-estoy… cerca, Dios mio…”

♣︎ ; His loyalty to Dutch blinded his own decision-making abilities. So when you died in the middle of the gunfire’s chaos, he knew it was his fault. The way your lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud, and yet, the world still kept spinning drove him insane. And he couldn’t rush there to cradle you in his arms, since if he did, he would die, too. He thought about it. He remembered everything, and in that moment, it was as if the world was cloudy, hazy, and he didn’t know what to do. He felt empty.

♣︎ ; He didn’t say anything. He looked at the corpse, but he couldn’t hold you. He couldn’t. He fled, and ran away — back to Mexico, and then one quiet night while hiding away he would finally reveal his tears. “I… was selfish, mi amor. Please. I can’t…” He looks at the ring in his fingers. He can’t make an excuse. He’s torn between his loyalty for Dutch and you. He’d remember all the promises he made, and all the ones he failed to keep. After this whole thing was over, he would marry you, and he would live with you quietly along some river or forest. It didn’t matter, as long as it was you. Maybe even a little girl, sure. But now that was all gone.

♣︎ ; All he has now to carry is the burden of guilt and some silver ring. He knows he’ll die, too, at some point - but he’s not sure he’ll meet you. “Ah, mi corazon… I’m sure you’re up there. I’ll probably rot in hell for my sins.”

SEAN MACGUIRE

♦︎ ; Sean is a dirty man. Both mentally and physically— so he wouldn’t imagine even after ten bottles of beer that someone like you would tolerate him, let alone like him. You fell first, he fell harder type of situation. He dropped the bottle of Whiskey he was holding when he heard Arthur say something. “Sean, come on, listen to Hosea. Get up, will ya? Can’t believe [READER] likes this sack of shit.”

♦︎ ; “Huh? She does? She likes me? [READER]?” He says in a dumbfounded expression, as Arthur clicks his tongue, puts his palm over his forehead and shakes his head slowly in disappointment. “Of course she does, you damn idiot. And I can’t believe it, either. I could’ve sworn she liked smart men.”

♥︎ ; He isn’t well-put together, in fact, he’s downright nasty— reeking of alcohol, unwashed clothes for days, and unkept hair. But when he finds out this information, he suddenly learns how to take a shower once in a while, and people notice that, often making knowing faces to each other. “Hey, mister MacGuire, you’re looking real fine today,” Javier starts, wiggling his eyebrows. “Well— yeah I am! I always am!” Sean replies, fixing his hat.

♥︎ ; Sean describes himself as the woman charmer, though in reality, when he’s faced with you, he can’t help but stutter — his Irish accent making it more unintelligible. It doesn’t make him cool. One time, he tries to flirt (given the beer has granted him confidence this time) and leans on the empty barrel next to him with a grin. He falls down, “Ow!” and he rubs his head. He couldn’t look up at you. For the next few days, he appears to avoid barrels every time he sees them.

♥︎ ; “My lady,” He says, bowing down with a smile as he lets you go first in this venue he’s gotten to somehow weasel his way in. He takes your hand in his, as you two act as if you’re a wealthy couple coming here in their regular dinner. Times like these he always remembers to cherish. Because although he wished to, in this life, he can’t spoil you the normal way.

♥︎ ; This man gets piss-drunk and makes a beeline to your tent, occasionally bumping into other gang members in the process. “Sean, watch your step…” Lenny says, sighing and shaking his head. When he gets there, he plops his whole body down your cot as you jolt up in surprise. “Sean?” This is normal — you felt the weight and you knew it was him. It’s either he’s already asleep, or you hold his chin and look at his sad face. “Darlin’… You’re leaving me?” He lips curl into a pout, and his eyes swell. “I love you still… Don’t, please.”

♥︎ ; Loves getting a rise out of you. He knows what you like and don’t like, and uses it to his advantage to mess with you just because. He loves annoying you, and is always oddly proud about it since you’re one of the calmest people in the camp. One time, he enters your tent with that grin of his, holding something in his hand. It was a really stinky plant. You frowned. “Sean, get that out of my face, you’re disgusting,” He puts it even closer. “Sean!” He laughs, jiggling it in his hand. “What? Ye don’t like it, me love? It’s a great present from handsome ol’ me,” When he sees you about to gag, he puts it away. And you look away, refusing to talk with him any further. “Er— sorry, I… Sorry…” He gets all guilty and quiet. He then asks for your forgiveness the whole day.

♥︎ ; Has the most stupidest laugh ever. It doesn’t help that when he sleeps with you, he often giggles and speaks incoherently, shifting around and occasionally kicking you. He doesn’t mean it. “Mmh… Heh,” He snickers quietly. “No, John… She’s me girl. We can’t share.” And his Irish accent gets even stronger, if that’s possible. “No, get away, Arthur…”

♠︎ ; When he sleeps with you, every limb is tangled as if you two are now one entity altogether. A hand usually slips inside your shirt, in need to feel your skin. It’s rarely in a chaste way— you know Sean. It usually lowers down to your abdomen, his index finger circling the surface softly. And he’ll just keep going. When you notice what he’s about to do — you grumble and he laughs quietly. “Aw. c’mon. I’m not even doing anything.”

♣︎ ; Sean’s convinced no one really believes in him. The confidence he displays is usually for show, to make himself believe that he really does have a contribution and worth to himself. He’s seldom quiet — but when he is, he’s usually away thinking about it.

JOHN MARSTON

♥︎ ; The scar on his right cheek at this point is his signature. It doesn’t hurt anymore, as it’s fully healed, however - he still asks you to put ointment on it. Just because he likes you touching his face, and that little face you make when you’re deep in concentration. “Stop moving, John,” You say, and he straightens up, eyes on you. “Of course, darlin’. You know… I like this view a lot.” He says with a small grin. You should have put the ointment in his mouth.

♦︎ ; Running away with this man wasn’t easy, but at least it didn’t end up like Dutch and Molly. Oh, dear.

♥︎ ; His favorite thing to do with you is to place your hand in his, bring it up to his lips, and kiss your soft knuckles gently. “M’lady.” “Ah, shut up. You know I’m not.” “Anymore— ‘cause of me.” He replies, but there is no teasing glint in his eyes. You sigh briefly, tucking the loose strands of his behind his ear. “You know that doesn’t matter to me, John.”

♦︎ ; Your parents and life were miserable. You could say John saved you, when the gang went to the mansion and stole everything in sight. You pleaded, when you saw him, “Please. Bring me with you. I… I can’t live here.” And John was the first guy to convince Dutch to let you come with them. “What’s goin’ to do us good bringin’ a princess with us? It’ll only make the bounties on our heads bigger.” Arthur butts in, but Dutch shakes his head. “No… No, I’ve got a feeling she’ll be useful.”

♥︎ ; John can’t swim — and apparently, the water is his biggest enemy. This makes him not bathe for weeks. You force him to, most of the time; and he will keep on refusing you until you come up with a consensus. “No— no, darlin’— the dirt makes me stronger and resistant to—” He hears your sigh and the sees the way you pinch your nose bridge. “I’ll take a bath with you.” “…Okay.” It’s as if he’s some child.

♥︎ ; He likes your nape very much. He kisses it gently, leaving a chaste trail down until the tip of your spine. When he sees your hair up, exposing this delicate part of yours, he’ll come like a moth to a flame, hugging you from behind. He loves your smell, — he finds it comforting. “Mm… My Angel.”

♣︎ ; He swears to you he’ll be a better man, to be not a fool, to get you out of here and live the normal life you deserve— with him. You can tell the poor man is trying, but sometimes, it annoys you because it gets to a point where he disappears for days and comes back with a new scar. He knows you’re worried, but it’ll always be the same excuse from him, “It’s for the better.”

♥︎ ; You two had an argument about him acting brash and reckless, and it lasted for a long while, maybe a week or so. That time, he was barely seen in camp, and so were you. “They’re fighting, aren’t they?” Charles would ask Arthur, and he’d nod. “Yeah, well, look at jus’ how much John is out. He’s probably robbed all of Valentine at this point.” Fighting with you makes him act more stupider, actually. He comes back to your tent with another injury, and this time, you couldn’t keep it anymore further. “John, what the hell?” You ask, walking over to him and inspecting it. He looks like a guilty dog. “You’re… Just come here.” You tend to his wound, as silence ensues for a while. It was tense, before he sighed. Both of you speak up at the same time, with a mutter of “Sorry.” This earns a mutual stare of surprise, and a dumbfounded look painted on John’s face. “Oh, darlin’…”

♠︎ ; John rolls his eyes in pleasure, mouth slightly agape as moans threaten to leave his mouth. You were so good, so sweet, sucking his cock as his body leaned behind him for support. It made his knees weak, and you just about were doing the best job. “Ah.. Ah.. Darlin’…” He feels himself reach the back of your throat, as you took in every liquid that came from him. At this point, your mouth had memorized every vein and put it into memory, and your hands held his hips tightly. He lets out a string of cusses, holding your head as his fingers dug through the strands of hair in need. “Yeah… God, just like that…” He pushes you further, and he feels your throat tighten upon the action. You were taking him in like a drink, and he wouldn’t complain. The fluid that stains your lips are licked upon contact, and he can’t help but sigh at the relief. “Fuck…”

♠︎ ; John doesn’t say it out loud but you know he enjoys being under you, while you give him handjobs. Your hand cups his length, moving in a just pace while you murmur how pretty he looks. He’ll be all whiny, and needy, asking for you. “Ah, yeah… I’m… I need you, [READER].”

♥︎ ; He proposes to you and tries to be romantic. It’s been a week since the two of you were staying in this hotel, and you were contemplating if it was your birthday since he was with you the whole time. No missions, no going out… just with you. You’re both sitting quietly away somewhere, by a lake, and the sun is almost set. He holds your hand gently, and you wonder why he actually looks clean today. In reality, he’s been planning this for months, and he’s brought out his best suit and his hands are practically shaking in nervousness. He’s talked about this with Hosea, Arthur, even Mary Beth. He doesn’t want to fuck this up. “Just be yourself, John.” They’d all say. Now, he looks at you, smiling while he kisses your hand. Kneeling down, he shows a ring. “I… [READER]. I know it’s not much, but… I’ll try to make you happy. Will you marry me?” And he tries to be romantic, he really does, but he can’t help but shift himself awkwardly and try not to evade your eyes that were now swelling up. “Oh, you idiot,” You say, urging for him to stand up. “Yes, yes… I will. I’ll marry you.” His face lights up like a Christmas tree, as he holds your waist and spins you around acting all giddy. “You do? You will?” He can’t believe it.

♣︎ ; And you knew one day that the mistakes, the crimes, and overall bad he’d done would catch up to him. You were having a baby to be delivered. You hadn’t told him yet, hoping to surprise him and get a reaction out of him. You’d bet he’d cry. But Bounty hunters were coming, and they couldn’t care less. They opened the house’s doors with urgency and force, the guns’ barrels pointing at you. “Found the wife,” One said, eyeing the ring on your finger while you tried to protect yourself. “Where’s John Marston? Listen, we’re in a hurry here. I’ll blow you brains out if you don’t tell me where he is, woman. Don’t try anything funny.” In a panicked state, you grabbed a nearby hidden revolver and shot the hunter by the abdomen, as he groaned in pain and fell to his knees. The fellow bounty hunters pulled their triggers in unison, though only one bullet manages to pierce you. Unfortunately, it placed itself by your stomach. John barges through the door, horrified, as the hunters dropped to the floor. All you could hear were bullets flying, your own fast, ragged breathing, and John repeatedly calling out your name. “No, no, no, no… [READER], look at me. Don’t go. [READER].” He says softly, as his hand tries to stop the blood from flowing any further. You could see in your blurred vision that he tears were falling from his eyes. “No… No, please. Please.” He says again, and you manage to speak despite the blood coming out of your mouth. “John… John, I’m pregnant.” Everything is shattered for him. He freezes. “I love you, okay? We love you.” You add weakly. He wished he came sooner. Regret, guilt, and fear began to fill his heart when he saw the light in your eyes fading away. “No… Please… I—I love you. I love you both. Don’t… Stay with me, please.”

KIERAN DUFFY

♥︎ ; You caught Kieran plucking the petals of a white flower, sitting down on a rock as he mumbled quietly to himself, “She loves me… she loves me not… she loves me. She does?” He says, and realizes you were listening. He turns red and nervously throws the flower stem away, coughing. He had a cute little crush on you. It was painfully obvious — he knew that equally.

♥︎ ; He would stare at you from afar, talking to Branwen absentmindedly. “Ain’t she just… the prettiest girl you’ve seen?” He says, like the horse could understand.

♥︎ ; Flirting with him (or attempting to) was a comical and cute sight. You’d say something completely innocent and blood would rush to the tip of his ears and dust his cheeks immediately. “There he is,” You say. “How’s my lovely Kieran doing?” He forgets to breathe.

♥︎ ; The mere act of fingers brushing would startle the poor guy, however, he tries to make amends for his terrible nervousness with trying to at least make small advances to you. “Hey, uh, [READER]. You’re… looking really… pretty today.”

♥︎ ; His hands are sweaty and shaky when you hold them, but he manages to always gently caress your knuckles with his thumb.

♥︎ ; Kieran loves the feel of your lips. It gets him giddy and excited inside, and he looks all shy and cute on the outside as well. He loves when you plaster kisses all over his face, especially on the bridge of his nose, like a little branding. He always looks a little dizzy after the assault.

♥︎ ; “I… ain’t ever had a relationship before, but… I know I ain’t leavin’ you. Ever.” He mumbles, with a small smile as he hands you a necklace. “I… I love you.” He says, for the first time, and it makes you the happiest woman in the world. “I love you too, Kieran.”

♠︎ ; Gets hard really easily. One moment you’re fishing with him, and the next you see him urgently facing his body away from you, having a hard time holding the fishing rod. You could swear he was shaking, clutching it with a grip of an eagle. “What’s wrong?” You ask innocently, but he refuses to indulge in giving you an answer. “N-Nuthin’…” He manages to get out.

♣︎ ; The last thing Kieran ever says to you is “see you later.” It’s a simple statement, a short promise, that he broke soon after. He always had that nervous smile when he departed with you, scared that something unpredictable might happen. Life was going good to him, at least, when he met you. The man had a whole life to live ahead of him, albeit his past posing as a shadow. The news of his death didn’t register in your mind until a few weeks later, when you had yourself on your knees, clutching the necklace he gave you in your hands. And it hurt twice as much when you realized you were practically the only one mourning him.

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gladiatorcunt · 1 year ago

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🪺 - # WINTERGREEN CANDY CANE !!

cw: canon typical mind games, baby trapping/pregnancy, manipulation, reader’s emotionally constipated, tashi’s injury, cunnilingus, cockwarming, tit fucking, established tashi & patrick (there’s no feelings between them but they stay together for reader in the beginning), lactation, not rlly smut focused despite the tags, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, ambiguous baby daddy (even though the ending can be read a certain way), one mention of patrick x art, afab reader, there’s a thought about you being injured but it’s not serious, small time skip (?) type thing and implied future pregnancies, purposefully vague/unreliable narrator vibes

patrick and art’s descriptions are heavily insp. by these posts

consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip if you enjoyed!

They never tell you that Tashi got injured on purpose. She’s too good to fall victim to what plagues so many athletes, but you don’t know that. You, her assumed rival and yet also the poster child of sportsmanship. Rivalry can bring out affection in people, it can highlight the need for someone who can understand you better than anyone else possibly could. You’ve never been anything but soft and sweet, but you can still summon the lightning streaking across the sky in your eyes when the game begins. There’s a glow around you that Tashi craves like a moth craves the shadow behind the light they fly into.

Tashi’s fall from her pedestal was painful and the hardest decision she’s ever made, but for the first time she made it for love. The set up was the easiest part, but now she has to actually make the serve. And she can’t do it alone, she’d be stupid to be blind to how her boyfriend and his best friend’s stares linger. What she and Patrick shared fizzled out a while ago, but if she lets him go, then that signs her up for a battle she’d rather avoid. Sometimes pleasure can be derived from depriving an animal of the chance to kill rather than setting it free and giving it an opportunity to go after you first.

Who knows, maybe someday you and her can share matching injuries.

Luckily, Patrick shares the same sentiment, quickly agreeing to the arrangement and plan when he visited prior to the injury. Art’s good at downplaying his toxicity, so Tashi wasn’t concerned about if he could play the part of a “worried friend”. You’ll bust into the office while she’s getting checked out to see Art there, and the infatuation you've been harboring for him will keep you in place. The queen on the chessboard who can’t really move however they please at all. Patrick will return in a “rush to see his girlfriend”, and you’ll be too intrinscingly intertwined in their web to cut yourself loose.

You weren’t the one she was playing against, but because of your “friendship” you’re there in the audience when it all goes down. The shock of something career ending happening to someone who had the most potential of anyone you’d ever seen is staggering.

You practically run to see if Tashi’s okay, and the disappointment that you might never play with her again is palpable. But she’ll be fine, you tell yourself, she has to be.

Art has already left by the time you get to the room she’s in, doing one of his parts of the plan and allowing Tashi to put everything into motion. He’s waiting nearby, running his hands through his hair as he imagines all the ways he can comfort you. Because you will need comforting later, and your future husband knows the best remedies for your incoming sadness.

You’re standing gobsmacked in front of her bandaged knee, a confirmation that this is really it. You shrug off your bag and let it slide down your arm to the cold floor. Your mouth opens but the words don’t come out. You struggle to know what to say as Tashi’s eyes meet yours.

“What am I supposed to do now, huh? My top competitors gone up and left me hanging.” You sigh, trying to keep the kicked puppy look out of your eyes.

She’s in pain and you’re making this about you. But if you and Tashi aren’t bound by Tennis, then what are you bound by. Your friendship doesn’t go beyond the court, so what do you even share now?

There’s no big declarations, no babbling where you word vomit about glad you are that she’s okay. Neither of you are those kinds of people. The energy in the air is dead, but the situation is too serious for awkward small talk. All you two can focus on is what’s ruined, but only one of you can also acknowledge what stands to be gained.

“Take a break, then.” She says plainly, a touch too proud to beg. “For me, I mean who else am I gonna let see me like this?”

That last is an attempt to lighten the mood, to use humor to point out how you’re truly the only person she’d let see her in tatters. Your eyes widen and you freeze, but then you take a seat next to the cot and take her hand. Your smile could destroy the sun, she thinks, and even if the earth was plunged into darkness you’d make it feel like there was nothing to be worried about at all.

“Okay, just for a little bit.” You chuckle and rub her shoulder delicately.

You don’t know what on earth possesses you to say it, but you realize that the absence of a challenge would drive you insane. There’s other reasons for it, ones you’re aware and ones you’re not. But you and Tashi have a way of saying just enough without ever needing to be raw and reveal what you really mean. If there’s a coherent meaning to be found.

“A little bit” ends up being forever, your pregnancies see to that.

Tashi makes Patrick and Art hinge a match solely on who’d get first crack at it; they play so savagely that you’d think they were stray dogs fighting over moldy scraps of food. She’s there when you get morning sickness and she sends the boys out with a list of what you’re currently craving at that moment. She’ll brush your hair and do your skincare for you, rubbing your belly while everyone’s asleep and telling you’re baby that she’d better be their favorite (after you of course).

Tashi takes pride in how she pleases your pussy when you’re too swollen to put in any of the work. She licks broad stripes up your soaked cunt, nipping at your clit and getting you to cream into her mouth in no time at all. She presses sweet little kisses up and down your folds, wishing you could see her love on your pussy properly. They’ve had competitions on who can make you squirt the fastest, and Tashi will never fail to mention that she’s never lost once.

Patrick gets really into cockwarming, getting you nice and settled in his lap. He has to take deep breaths so he doesn’t immediately start thrusting, he knows he has to think about the baby. But the pregnancy has made you impossibly tight, and your hormones make you go crazy for his sweat and natural musk. You’ll whine at him to hover over your head so you suck on his heavy balls. You nag about how he needs to take better care of himself, but you’ve grown to love swallowing his tangy load while you’re suffocating in his pubes.

When that happens depends on how long either of you can hold out, Patrick will tease you about how slutty you’ve been lately and squeeze your face with one hand. His cock will twitch inside of you, snug and strangled. He'll suck Art off till both of their lips are bleeding and you’ll motorboat Tashi’s tits to pass the time. You’ll start swiveling your hips somewhere along the way and his resolve will crumble like it never existed in the first place.

That’s for later though. He fastens the ugly neon cartoonish headphones over your belly and turns on the attached mic, doing storytime with the softest grin on his face.

Art on other hand likes fucking your leaking tits, he loves when drops of milk lube up the slide of his dick in the valley between them. He’ll thumb at your sensitive nipples and flick them, cooing at you when you moan and lap at his cockhead during the split second it reaches your mouths. He’ll look after your breasts outside of the bedroom. He’ll massage them and drain them for you if they’re feeling particularly sore, two of them will be latching on either tit while the third will be sucking on your tongue. His pecs bounce with every languid roll of his hips through the pocket his hands create, and he brings your hands up to them so you’ll grab on and leave scratches.

Art gives you more cum, his literal breeder balls are too big and full, and he’ll bet that he’ll give you more children. His thrusts have a certain punchy rhyme and rhythm to them while Patrick’s are sloppily enthusiastic and feral.

Art picks out supplies for the nursery with you, supporting your vision wholeheartedly and agreeing with every color and stuffed animal you choose. He and Patrick continue with their careers, and Tashi finds a way to coach them both, they need to support you and the new member of their slightly dysfunctional family. Tashi writes up the speech you give when you announce your early and extremely unexpected retirement, and she massages your feet when you collapse on the couch from the sheer emotional exhaustion. Art pecks each of your toes as she does so. Patrick plays tic tac toe against himself in the hollow of your throat.

And when the baby’s born and they can finally see who actually got you knocked up, Tashi says that maybe Patrick will get to be happy that he’s finally won something.

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or give my works to ai

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spacerockfloater · 11 months ago

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Alicent and Criston have every right to be together.

I’ve read a lot of posts regarding their non-existent hypocrisy and I’d like to clear some things up.

First and foremost, stop using Alicent’s “Where is duty, where is sacrifice?” line against her or Nyra’s outrageous “Exhausting, wasn’t it?” speech because you think you’re eating when you’re, in fact, starving. Alicent has done her duty and sacrificed herself. It’s the only thing she’s been doing for the past 20 years. She gave the man she was forced to marry four children and she took care of him despite all the shit he put her through. She has lived all her life based on her principles and now her husband is gone. She mourned him, she buried him, it’s been more than 10 days since his death (confirmed that E1 S2 takes place 10 days after Lucerys’ death) and she is finally fucking free. She deserves a sliver of comfort. Alicent is the only one in this series that’s been faithful and dutiful to a T, yet look where that got her. If someone has the right to break the law a little bit, it’s definitely her.

That being said, I don’t know when it was decided that Alicent is a pious saint that can do no wrong, but I need to remind y’all that following a religion does not magically prevent you from sinning. Is she committing fornication? Obviously. However, you are all under this impression that this is hypocritical on her behalf because she berated Rhaenyra for it when they were younger, without considering that her anger was justified for a myriad of other reasons, such as (but not limited to): 1) the fact that Rhaenyra’s freedom to marry whomever she pleased was a privilege granted to her thanks to Alicent’s efforts, who supported her even if Rhaenyra hated her, yet her friend casually threw that away, 2) the fact that Rhaenyra lied to her by swearing on her morher’s grave and never even mentioned Criston, 3) the fact that Rhaenyra had the guts to call her “sister” while lying to her face, 4) the fact that her lies resulted in Otto getting fired since Rhaenyra misled Alicent so that she speaks to Viserys in favour of her friend and betraying her own father by siding against him (a decision she wouldn’t have made if she knew the truth), leaving her completely alone and friendless at court, even if he was right all along and finally 5) the fact that Rhaenyra is the most sought after bachelorette in the whole world and by having sex she undermines herself (Rhaenyra knows this well, hence why she denies these accusations) and literally endangers herself, because had she been married to any other man but Laenor and had this man found out his wife and future queen is not a virgin, imagine the fucking horrors she could have been subjected to. Like, I hate to break it to you, but a 40-year-old widow, who’s had four kids and has completed her duty to the point where she is actually no longer needed and could leave the palace to go live the rest of her life in peace somewhere else and no one would notice her absence (literally though, she has birthed heirs, her husband is dead, her son is a grown adult king, her job is done there), having sex, is not the same as an 18-year-old princess and future heir in her prime, whose purity is linked to her worth, getting caught drunk in a brothel, hooking up with her uncle and losing her virginity to her guard, all in one night. Viserys himself was outraged. There’s lows and then there’s lows, y’all.

By the way, the crazy assumptions that Alicent has been cheating on Viserys with Criston for a while now need to stop. When Olivia Cooke said that they had filmed a messy sex scene with Fabien Frankel in a recent interview, she never said this was for S1 of HOTD. I don’t know where y’all got that from, but even if it was true, that scene has been scrapped so it is not canon. And don’t make me laugh about Daeron, a dragon rider who canonically has Valyrian features, potentially having brown hair. You’re all so blinded by your hatred for Alicent that you want her to be a lying hypocrite in order to make yourselves feel better about Rhaenyra’s mishaps, that you don’t get that the whole point of her and Criston getting physical is that she is a tortured woman who is finally able to break free, not that she has been a hypocrite all along. You’re heavily misunderstanding her arc.

Finally, when it comes to my good man Criston, y’all have lost it completely. No, Alicent is not raping him, unless he tells her to stop and she closes the door behind her like Rhaenyra did that is. No, Criston did not lie about how important his honour is to him. There’s a whole article on how Clare Kilner, the director of E4 S1, decided that Cole removing his armour slowly was necessary because it symbolises his inner conflict and uncertainty over breaking his vow: should he soil his cloak for the sake of the woman he loves? And he does soil it, because he thinks she loves him back. But that honourable man dies the day Rhaenyra tells him that he’ll never be anything more than a side piece to her. This man stops giving a flying fuck about his honour, oath, position and life. He is trying to kill himself. And you know what stops him? Alicent. Alicent is the only thing between him and death, the only person to show him kindness and understanding, to pull him up from the lowest point in his life. I don’t think you heard Alicent in E7 S1: “No, you’re sworn to me!”. Y’all. His life is hers. He doesn’t care about Rhaenyra, his job, Viserys, anyone else at this point. Only Alicent exists in his mind, Fabien himself has said time and time again that his loyalty to her is unwavering. He only exists for Alicent’s sake. He’s who you wish Daemon was. Crying that “Criston is a bad knight and a liar because he broke his chastity oath yet again!” is so pointless because that knight has been dead since Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor. What does an oath mean when you find out the people you swore it to have betrayed you? Why should he keep his promise to the people who abused him?

#house of the dragon #hotd hbo #hotd #alicent hightower #pro alicent hightower #pro alicent stans #ser criston #ser criston cole #pro criston cole #alicent x criston #alicole #team green #pro team green #anti team black stans #anti team black #anti rhaenyra stans #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemyra #anti daemon targaryen

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voxslays · 5 months ago

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GOODNIGHT, MY LOVE

Featuring >>> Lucifer x Reader; In which, an attempt to kill baby Charlie goes south. Resulting in a soporific curse placed upon the reader, who struggles to deal with the aftermath of its affects.

Part Four Part Six

A/N: I wanna explain something really quick- i wrote how Lucifer lost his wings when he fell, which isn’t confirmed to be canon or not, however, I saw a theory about it (which I agreed with) and that’s why it’s in this chapter.

Lucifer wasn’t okay. It had been seven long, agonizing years since that fateful day—the one where you were lost to a sleeping curse cast by (Lucifer’s own brother, and also) heaven’s angels, the supposed divine beings. Lucifer had become a shell of his former self, consumed by grief and regret. He barely ate or slept, spending his days locked away in his workshop, tinkering with various rubber duckies to pass the time. He had never told Charlie what had happened to you—it was much too painful…and it was better this way. Charlie was too young to understand at the time, and even now it would still hit her hard, like a tornado. So Lucifer carried the weight of your untimely demise to himself, never outright confirming nor denying your fate. But Lucifer knew it was time to visit you—he just had to.

Inside was a beautiful atrium, surrounded by all of your favorite flowers. There were large apple trees that grew golden apples (that never rot, (thanks to the backflipping rubber duck 3000!)) and invasive rose bushes. Lucifer had never planted the roses, but it seemed wherever you went, roses followed. His steps echo softly across the marble floor as he walks through the atrium, marveling at the golden apples glistening in the moonlight filtering through the stained-glass roof.

The sweet scent of roses fills his nostrils, bringing back vivid memories he's fought so hard to suppress. "My love…" In the middle of the atrium is a glass coffin-like case. What was inside? You. You looked as peaceful as ever, as though you were only taking a small slumber. Lucifer approaches the glass coffin cautiously, his reflection shimmering on the polished surface. Inside lies your sleeping form, frozen in time. Your hair fanned out beneath your head, your skin almost luminescent under the ethereal light as your chest slowly rises and falls.

In your hand lies a simple yet elegant bouquet of white roses, which continue slowly rise up and down as you softly breathe. You're not dead—at least, not really. You're trapped in an eternal slumber, frozen in time. You don’t move in your sleep at all, the only sign of life is your shallow breathing—yet Lucifer refuses to let you go. How could he? The two of you have been together for thousands of years. That’s not something you can easily erase.

Lucifer reaches out, placing his gloved hand against the glass, gently looking at the white roses in your grasp. He slowly raises up his other hand, looking at his golden wedding band—before his eyes flick down to the golden wedding band on your own finger, mirroring his own. He remembers the day he slipped it on, all the joy, the happiness—now replaced by endless sorrow and loneliness. He straightens up, his mind racing with questions and unspoken words.

He ungloves his hand, pressing his bare white palm against the cool glass, as if trying to reach through to hold your hand. He stares at the rings, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Still married, aren't we?” His voice cracks slightly, emotion barely contained as he stares at your sleeping face through the glass. "You always wanted white roses, remember? I used to tease you about it…" His voice trails off, lost in memory "You always looked so beautiful next to them.”

His other hand reaches up, tracing the glass over your cheek softly. Tears threaten to fall as he continues speaking, voice thick with emotion "Do you dream of me? Or are you trapped… lost in some eternal, peaceful oblivion?" He asks, as if expecting an answer he’ll never get. Lucifer’s thumb gently strokes the outer surface of the glass over your sleeping form, creating tiny rainbows from the moonlight reflecting through the stained glass above. "When we fell… I thought losing my wings would be my greatest punishment. But now…” He pauses, trying (and failing) to keep his composure. “Now I know there's nothing worse than existing without you."

His voice breaks slightly as he looks at your peaceful face, a single tear finally falling down his cheek. “I miss you…” He stands there for a long moment, tears streaming down his face as he looks at you, lost in his grief. Finally, he turns away, walking back through the atrium, leaving the glass coffin behind, the sound of his quiet sobs echoing through the castle halls. "Goodnight, my love…"

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel angst #angst #light angst #sleeping beauty

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jamespotterismydaddy · 11 months ago

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Lord Husband (Chapter 12)

A/N: ik it took be forever to post this, pls dont crucify me. I also don't care if we have canon cregan; thats literally not my man

WORD COUNT: 1,078 words

masterlist

You gave him hope. You knew you did and perhaps you shouldn’t have. It would have been easier if you didn’t, but you think you… wanted to? Do you want to have dinner with him?

“Seven hells.” You grumble to Sȳndror after you’ve dismounted. “I suppose I have to eat with him.”

Well, you know you don’t have to. You didn’t even give him proper confirmation, but it’s much simpler to think of it as something you can’t avoid, you decide, making the walk back inside the castle.

“Draw my bath.” You say to Rose as you enter your chambers. “And you’ll need to select a proper evening gown for me today. I’ll be having my supper with Lord Stark.”

“You will?” Your handmaiden asks, looking at you as though you’ve grown a second head.

“I have just said it, haven’t I? Don’t look so bewildered.”

“My apologies.” She curtseys and runs off to start your bath.

When you walk over to the prepared tub, she begins to help you undress. “My apologies for my harsh tone. The situation is simply unusual for me.”

“You never need to apologize, princess. I understand fully.” She finishes undoing your dress and lets the garment drop before also helping you out of your shift.

“I brought him to meet Sȳndror today.” You say wistfully as you step into the perfectly hot bath. Rose always knows just how you like it.

“What prompted that?” She asks carefully, knowing that not even your closest friends have met the beast.

“He caught me watching him train. I wanted to frighten him.” You reply and she giggles.

“I would expect nothing less.” She says and begins to wash your body clean from the smell of dragon. “I also quite like watching the way the northernmen train.”

“There is something unique about the way they move.” You murmur thoughtfully.

“I would say there is something… primal in it.” Rose says with a giggle, clearly thinking about a different adjective in truth.

“Yes, it's very rough.” You muse.

“Did he get along with Sȳndror?” She asks, now running her fingers through your wet hair.

“He is not dead. So, I suppose the answer is yes.” You both giggle.

“Well, I am sure he is appreciative of the honour.”

“He doesn’t quite realize how much of an honour it is.”

“Lord Stark doesn’t know he is the first non-Targaryen you have brought to meet your dragon?” She gives you a slightly bewildered look.

“Of course not. He would be far too pleased with himself if he knew.” You roll your eyes and with your hair washed, you stand, Rose bringing you a robe.

“It is very gracious of you to allow him the meeting nonetheless.”

“I am known to be gracious.” You reply with a cheeky smile and the both of you giggle.

“I am excited that you’ll be getting more wear out of your evening gowns.” Rose says as she throws open the doors of your closet. “This one could be most suitable.” She holds out a stormy grey dress and you scoff.

“There’s no way in the Seven Hells i’m wearing Stark colours.”

“But it would make him go positively insane.” Rose muses.

“I’ll have one of my black and red gowns.” You say, ignoring her. “The one with the sleeves that Baela adores.”

“Oh, that will be a splendid choice. Lord Stark has never seen you in a proper evening gown. This one will make for a strong start.” She admires the dress in the cupboard before fetching your small clothes.

When you’re dressed, you look nothing short of phenomenal.

“He may faint from the sight of you.”

“I hope he does.” You murmur, checking yourself one last time in the mirror before strutting out of the room. “Come, Ser Robert. I will be suppering with Lord Stark.” You say to the surprised guard as you walk past him.

“You will dine… with your husband, princess?” He asks in a confused tone as he catches up with you.

“Well I just said that, did I not?” You shoot in a snarky tone.

He chuckles. “My apologies. I simply did not realize you enjoyed his company.”

“I am starting to think that I don’t enjoy your company. Perhaps I should get a new protector.”

“Any man but I will be subpar and that is the second time you have threatened to replace me today, princess. Should I be worried?”

“Not worried. Perhaps just less irritating.” You smile.

“Anything to please her highness.” He responds playfully just before the two of you arrive at one of the smaller dining halls in the castle. The doors are thrust open for you, your protector waiting just outside as you walk in.

Cregan stands when he sees you and immediately makes his way over before bringing your hand up for a kiss. “Princess.” He murmurs, not wanting to seem too casual by using your name (even if you are his wife).

“Lord Stark.” Your formality makes him frown. His own formality also made him frown.

“That dress looks beautiful on you.” He says, wanting to make sure you know he’s complimenting you and not the gown. He couldn’t care less about a few pieces of fabric.

“You are also looking well.” You murmur in response, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second before gliding out of his hold and to your seat. You can feel the ghostly touch of his lips on your hand and you see how he lingers for just a moment before sitting down himself.

“How was your ride today?” He asks as you start to plate your food.

“‘Twas as good as it can be. Sȳndror is restless these days. He doesn’t enjoy flying as high as he used to; I think the bite of chill in the air bothers him.”

“I hope that he can settle soon. It will get warmer… in a few months' time.” Cregan tries to help, but the discussion of the passage of time unnerves you. You don’t want to think about how in a few months, you will still be here.

“He isn’t used to being alone.” Neither are you.

“Then we will have to house your brothers for a visit. I know how important family is.” He sees it then, the little glimmer in your eyes at the suggestion. Your husband feels like he’s made you somewhat happy for the first time ever.

“I would like that.”

comment to be added to the taglist

#lord husband #cregan stark fic #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan #cregan stark x reader #hotd x reader #hotd

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gingernut1314 · 6 months ago

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Just A Bedtime Story ch. 4

Summary: You are out for a swim during your work break, only to stumble upon a fight on the docks. A fight starring a very familiar face.

Content: female reader, gendered terms, pre-season 1 arcane, introduction to Sevika and Nadia (my oc...though technically she's low-key canon lol), Canon typical violence (description of a fight), young Silco, young Sevika, young reader, reader using water manipulation, confirming friendship, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna)

Word Count: 3.7K

A/N: This is a bit of a long one sorry. I caught a little too much in their interactions. Next chapter we will finally get them all aged up!! I hope you all enjoy!

↞ to The Water's Cold Embrace Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

The waters of the Undercity had always been a comfort to you--a second home. No matter how freezing--no matter how polluted they got, you always found yourself swimming within them.

People who knew you often said if you didn’t need to breathe, you would stay down in the inky depth. And they would be very much corrected.

It was truly too bad you hadn’t developed gills and webbed fingers.

You had just resurfaced to take a much-needed breath when a sound other than lapping water and the creaking of wooden ships caught your ear. It was faint. So faint you found yourself swimming out from under your boss’ dock and toward the sound.

Not only were you an avid swimmer, but you were nosy as hell. A nosiness that got you in trouble more times than not.

The closer and closer you swam, the clearer the sound grew.

Sounds.

Stomping and shuffling feet, grunts and shouts, bone hitting flesh, the sharp zing of a blade flying through the air and cutting through the skin.

It was a fight you were hearing.

You swam toward the ladder on the wall and climbed slowly upward, water dripping off your body and making too much noise. You doubted whoever was fighting could tell the difference between the water swooshing against the wood and your body leaving it, but you could never be too careful.

Peeking your head up over the wooden dock, you found a cluster of boys all around your age or older. You recognized them all instantly as the gang that thought they owned the docks. As the gang that tormented you to no end. Who you had stolen from only two months prior.

They had stayed under the radar since then. You could take a pretty good guess as to why, that being they were embarrassed about their defeat. They were bloodied, bruised, and some dead, and word of their loss had spread like wildfire.

Partially because you had fanned the flames.

But even when you knew they knew you had spread the word, they hadn’t come out of hiding. Not until now.

You pulled yourself a little further upward, trying to catch a glimpse of who they were beating on this time. Slowly and carefully you scanned over the scene and…

There.

You found them. Him. And fucking hell--

It was Silco.

You wondered what the hell he was doing all the way over here? Especially since The Last Drop, his territory, was located in the heart of the Undercity while the docks lay closer to Piltover’s borders. Too close to your liking but you really couldn’t do anything about that.

You wondered why the hell he would draw their attention when he knew they would be out for blood--his blood specifically. While Vander had beat them into a bloody pulp, Silco had killed a good handful of their members.

You had greatly enjoyed this fact, but it still didn’t make it a good idea for him to be wondering about over here where they knew the area best.

It was a ten-on-one fight. Seemingly unfair odds but somehow Silco was still standing. Somehow he was making it nine then eight then seven against one the longer the fight went on.

His movements, while not the most graceful, were ruthless. Movements you knew spoke volumes to the amount of fights he had waged. To the number of fights he had won.

You were awestruck by it. So hypnotized by his fighting that you failed to spy one of the fallen members get back up. To see him grab a loose plank of wood and rush at Silco, who was busy fending off two nasty-looking members.

You and Silco both didn’t see the plank until it was crashing over the back of Silco’s head. He went crumbling to the ground, his knives clattering beside him as he went.

The gang seemed to hesitate. Like maybe they believe he was faking it. Hesitated as if he were some beast who would snap up and crush them between his jaws, but Silco stayed down and your throat tightened.

You rushed up the rest of the ladder, pulling the attention of most of the remaining members just as they went to beat Silco further into the ground.

“Little fishy,” You were disappointed to see Rotting Teeth was still standing, blood running from a deep cut on the ridge of his nose. “I’d say you were here to save your little boyfriend, but your weak as all shit.”

��Good to see your mush-filled skull can still come up with shitty insults.” He grits his rotting teeth at you.

“You still haven’t learned your place, have you?” You blinked at him slowly.

“My…place?” You spoke, mocking confusion. “I don’t know what you mean?” He growled, too easily annoyed.

“You bitch--”

“Oh, gods.” You groaned. “Where is the originality? Little fishy’s good, but bitch? Really? Everyone uses that.”

“Here’s what's gonna happen, bitch.” You shook your head in mock disappointment. “I’m gonna kill your boy toy and then I'm gonna kill you. Understand?” He pulled a very dull-looking knife from his pocket, brandishing it your way like it might scare you.

“No. I don’t think I do, because you won’t be killing anyone.” Rotting Teeth and his gang gave howling rounds of laughter at your words. Laugher you used as a slight distraction as you felt for the water below your feet. Water your magic sung the same melody with.

“Get--” But before Rotten Teeth could give his commands, you yanked the water upward, it hissing sharply as it shot between the planks.

Startled shouts sounded from the gang. Shouts that turned painful as you moved your hands around, guiding the water to shoot into their eyes and nose.

The breath in your lungs grew heavier the longer you used your magic. Magic you knew you could only control for so long before growing too exhausted.

So, with great effort, you willed the waters to wrap around the throats of the remaining eight gang members. They gave strangled and fearful yelps before you were yanking them towards the waters below with a great grunt.

As soon as you heard them splash into the cold waters below, you released your magic quickly. The strain of using such power had you stumbling forward, your vision blurring and every breath pulling in with a slight, whistling wheeze.

Janna had told you to start out small. Exploding the flask being a perfect example. It was at your skill level and you could do it without much thought anymore.

Fully manipulating water like it was a second limb? While very cool, it definitely was still something you were working on…even when you wished to prove the wind spirit wrong.

“You have magic.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement and it was coming from Silco who had at some point regained consciousness.

“Magic’s just a bedtime story.” You huffed and puffed out. Swallowing down air, you wobbled over to him only to nearly trip over his long legs, which were still sprawled out over the dock.

“Bedtime--I just saw you control water.” You gave another swallowed-down bit of air, your vision starting to focus and breathing finally beginning to even.

“I think that asshole hit you harder than I thought.” You knelt down in front of him, grabbing a hold of his head to shove it down and get a better view of the back of it.

“Get your hands off of me.” He hissed, slapping your hand away. You gave a little fake ow at the hit.

“Wow…not even a thank you for saving your life?” You gave a mockingly hurt shake of your head. “That hurts.”

“Oh please.” He all but rolled his eyes, pulling his legs under himself as he prepared himself to get up. “I had it under control.”

“Okay. Yeah. ‘Under control’. We can call it that.” Silco ran one of his hands over his face, showing off his newly split knuckles.

“Where did you even come from?” You held out your hand for him to take. He eyed it for a moment, as if to deny your further help, but reluctantly took hold of it. You helped pull him upward, savoring the feel of his chill skin against yours before it ended a few seconds later.

“Went for a swim. Heard you getting your ass beat--”

“I was not--”

“Swam over here and saved it.” Silco gave you an exasperated sigh through his nose. “This makes us even, ya know. You saved my life, I saved yours.”

“Fine.” He gruffly said. It pulled an all too cheerful smile to your lips that only seemed to annoy him further. “Just don’t tell Vander, yes?” The words quickly fell from him as he passed you. So quick that you almost didn’t catch it.

You had planned on telling Vander the next time you made your way to The Last Drop, but that look in Silco’s eyes…you couldn’t place your finger on it, though your ability to understand emotions was growing much better thanks to hanging around actual humans.

It was a look that was--near animals. Like the thought of Vander finding out you had saved him was turning him into a cornered animal. One that would snap its jaw at anyone that came too close.

Whatever it was, you didn’t like it.

You hopped to his side, wanting to follow him wherever he was heading.

“Okay.” Silco looked at you like he didn’t quite believe you. “If you really don’t want me to, I won’t.”

“But--why?” You gave a shrug.

“I cut into a fight you definitely could have won.” You added a bit of a playful tease to your tone. But even when you kept things playful, you willed your eyes to remain serious. To try and tell him silently you wouldn’t. “Why would I want to brag about my own dishonor.”

“Dishonor? I didn’t know there was honor between thieves and murderers to begin with.” Silco ran his thin fingers through his shaggy hair, trying to tame back the frizzled mess it had become in his fight.

Your own fingers itched as you watched him.

You wanted to do that.

“Oh yes. There’s a code and vow and everything. Very official.” You gave a dead serious nod. “Did you miss that meeting?” An amused smile pulled at the very corners of Silco’s thin lips. Lips you wanted to see sport a full smile. One you wanted wide enough you could look at the V-shaped chip there fully.

You felt bad about it, but damn it was cute. It just completely complimented him.

“Damn. Must have.” You gave him a small chuckle as you came upon your boss’ shop.

“This is where I work.” Silco looked over the gray, stone backing of the shop. Took in the small sign above the door and empty, fish gut-stained crates lining the back door.

“Are you working now?” You a small nod.

“Breaks about to end.” Silco gave a matching small nod, seafoam eyes landing on you once more.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” Silence filled the space between you two. A silence you didn’t like and was quick to fill. “Why’d you come all the way over here anyway?” Silco ran his fingers through his hair once more, eyes falling away from you as he kicked at an invisible pebble.

“Vander’s helping open The Last Drop. Went for a walk. Ended up here.” You really couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips then.

Had he come here to find you? Had he come here to--dare you say--hang out?

It had a giddy feeling bubbling in your chest you had to shove far down.

“Do you want to come inside? I can introduce you to Nadia and Sevika.” He glanced back up at you, brows furrowing the slightest bit.

“And they are…?”

“My friends. Nadia is super sweet. She can clean and wrap your knuckles and take care of any of your other wounds.” Silco subconsciously looked to his bleeding knuckles. You knew he probably wouldn’t take the offer but it was there if he did.

“And the other?”

“Sevika?” He nodded. “Well, Sevika’s…Sevika.” You shrugged. “She’s great. I think you’ll like her.” You grabbed hold of the door handle, which was dented here and there. “Come on. I can sneak you some food too.” At the prospect of food, Silco perked up instantly.

“Fine. But only for a moment.” You beamed at him as he followed after you.

The clatter of plates and pots filled your ears as you shut the door behind Silco, the kitchen a beehive of cooks and dishwashers and the heavenly smell of food. The chef shouted something to one of the other cooks who shouted right back as you reached to grab hold of Silco jacket sleeve.

“Okay so…try not to be so tall.” You whispered, beginning to pull him from behind the wall.

“Wha--am I not supposed to be in here?” You shushed him much to his dislike.

“Technically no. Boss isn’t a big fan of men so…” You thought of how your boss didn’t even like Nadia’s husband, who was probably the sweetest man on this earth. Boss hated men so much she only hired women to work in her diner and on her ship. Hated them so much she only interacted with male customers if it was absolutely necessary.

Silco gave a great sigh, so you tossed him a mischievous smile.

“Don’t worry. She stays in her office most of the day.” But just as you spoke, the door leading out into the front of the house swung open, making you startle so bad it showed physically.

A lithe woman came through carrying a plate of food that looked like it had been picked through by an all too picky customer. Her wild, ruddy red hair had been wrestled into a ponytail that was fighting to escape its confines, and her pale, near pearlescent skin was covered in faint speckling of freckles.

“Chef, I fear they--” Her burnt gold eyes flickered over you, pinkish lips pulling thin. “What have I told you.” She spoke again, her accent thick yet added another layer to her melodic voice. “If you go for a swim you must dry off. Dragging a mess in with you.” She shook her head, “I left a towel for you--” Again she cut herself off when her eyes looked just past you to Silco.

“Nadia, this is Silco.” Her eyes lit in recognition of the name. A name that may or may not have been spewed from your lips many, many times since you first met him. She gave a small shake of her head once more, blowing a deep sigh from her lips.

“Take this,” She all but shoved the plate of food into your hands, before rushing you and Silco into the locker room. “Give me a moment.” She smiled kindly Silco’s way before rushing back out of the door, washing the room in silence.

“See. Food.” You flopped down on one of the wooden benches, crossing your legs as you placed the plate beside you. When Silco continued to stand in the middle of the locker room looking too out of place, you waved him over. “What? Are you scared?” Silco rolled his eyes, following your gesture and sitting down beside the plate.

“Of course not.”

“Then stop acting like a chicken.” You teased, grabbing a few french fries and all but shoving them into your mouth. “The fish is fresh. Caught it this morning.” You spoke around the food in your mouth. Silco’s nose wrinkled at you in slight disgust but he wasted no time in ripping a bit of the fried fish.

“You caught it?” You hummed in yes, grabbing a bit of the fish yourself.

“Boss takes me with her when she goes out to sea. Calls me her good luck charm 'cause we always catch a good haul when I’m around.” Silco nodded, chewing the fish slowly.

“Because of your magic?” You were quick to shush him again. “Oh, would you stop--” Another long shush.

“It’s not magic.” Silco rose a brow at you, not believing it for a second. “And if it was…sure. Maybe that’s the reason.”

“Is it maybe the reason you can swim submerged in the waters and not reap the consequences as well?” You watched him for a long moment, slowing your own chewing.

“I don’t like this line of questioning.” Silco ripped another bit of the fish off.

“Well, magic is rare. As you said, just a bedtime story. It is only natural I would be curious.” He popped the fish into his mouth.

“It is just a bedtime story.” You insisted, messing with a fry between your fingers. “But…probably. But I think it also has to do with how my guardian found me. Just a newborn drowning within them. Someone threw me in.” You held a hand up showing your inky black fingertips, the darkness fading out around your knuckles. Silco’s own eyes scanned them over, then your face. “Use to be worse. Use to have glowing black and red eyes too.”

“That is…horrid.” You shrugged, popping the fry you had been messing with into your mouth.

“Eh. Seen worse.” You mused, grabbing up another fry. Silco’s seafoam eyes darkened in understanding.

They’d all seen worse. Experienced worse.

It came with the territory. It was the unfair truth they all had to live or it would crush them if them is they tried to deny it.

“Why tell me?” Silco’s voice came out quieter. Soft. Like he didn’t even want to ask but needed the answer.

“Because you asked.” You shrugged again.

“That can’t be the reason.”

“I mean--it’s you.” Silco’s eyes narrowed slightly in confusion to your answer. “I--you’re my friend. We’re friends. And…I guess I trust you to know. I want you to know.” You suddenly felt your stomach hollow out and your palms begin to sweat.

Nervous.

He made you so nervous.

You hated it but found you wouldn’t try to change it.

“We’re…friends.” Silco carefully said. Like it was a secret itself.

“I mean--I guess we don--” Silco shushed you just as you had him. It was an unexpected thing for him to do. One that had you gasping.

“We’re friends.” He confirmed, offering you a small smile. A smile that only made your heart twist and turn in your chest. One you couldn’t help but copy and copy brightly.

“Yes. Good. I’m glad.” He gave a small nod, turning his all-too-seeing eyes back down onto the plate between you two.

Oh, you could giggle. Oh, you could jump up and down and giggle.

“After I get off of work--” But your words were cut off by the door to the locker door banging open.

Nadia was hushly shouting, grabbing hold of Sevika’s strong arm and yanking as if she could actually move the girl.

Silco was quick to his feet, readying for a fight he might have to wage against the girl. You watched his calculating eyes take in the muscle-ripped teen as if already searching for weaknesses to exploit.

Sevika went right up to him, bending down to look him straight in the eyes when she truly didn’t need to. It was just her way of telling him she saw him as inferior until he proved otherwise.

“This is him?” Sevika asked, eyes never once leaving Silco’s own.

“Sevika, enough of all this.” Nadia tried again, but Sevika was quick to shake her off.

“I’m not doing anything, Dee.” She responded nonchalantly, but her demeanor was anything but. Nadia turned to look at you for help but you just shoved another fry into your mouth.

Silco’d be okay.

“Awfully close.” Silco calmly said. Though, just like Sevika, his demeanor was anything but.

“Small room.” She shrugged. “Come to see her?” Sevika shoved a thumb your way.

“She found me wandering.”

“Wandering? So far from the heart of the city?”

“It gets a bit boring staying in one place for too long, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I guess I would.” Sevika leaned in ever closer. So close you were almost jealous, wanting to be that close to him too. “You gonna hurt her?”

“Hasn’t given a reason to.” Sevika nodded at this, gray eyes having yet to soften into their normal gaze.

“Play cards?” Silco nodded back.

“Of course.” Sevika's eyes finally softened, her plump lips pulling as she gave a laugh. Silco’s shoulders loosened as she backed away, looking back to you and Nadia.

“Didn’t tell me he played cards.”

“Why would I ask that?” Sevika gave a deep, almost irritated sigh that was only teasing.

“Come on, guppy. That’s the most important question.” You gave an elongated sorry. “Guess you wouldn’t ask, seeing as you suck ass at playing any kinda card game.” You dramatically gasped, throwing a fry her way. The bit of fried potato bounced off her skin like she hadn’t even felt it.

More shouting sounded from within the kitchen. Shouting that had you, Naida, and Sevika all tensing at the sound, Silco the only one not privy to who it belonged to.

“Boss’ll kill him.” Sevika laughed. “See you ‘round, Silco. If you escape.” And back out the door she went.

“Oh dear, oh dear.” Nadia was ringing her apron between her hands. “You must go.” She insisted to Silco, “Oh dear--forgive Sevika for us. Oh, and your knuckles.” She gave a look like his wounds were her wounds. “Forgive me. They look painful.”

“He’ll live.” You waved her off, the shouting growing closer. Shouting now joined in by Sevika trying to keep the boss at bay.

“Will I?” He asked as you shoved the half-full plate into his hands.

“Probably.” You gave him a mischievous wiggle of your eyebrows. He opened his mouth as if to say something against whatever you were about to do, but you grabbed his wrist and yanked him back out the locker room before any sound could leave it.

You’re boss all but bellowed your name, Nadia’s nervous voice trying to calm her down as you threw open the back door and shoved Silco out of it. You watched him stumble out, losing a few fries, before turning back around, looking very much bewildered.

“I get off work at seven. I’ll bring you dinner, yeah?” You called to him. Silco had just started saying your name as you shut the door in his face.

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j4gm · 2 years ago

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SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 10: CHEERS

The finale!

Pawn Swan! This was another character who first appeared in Steve Wolfhard's post-finale loredump about the 1000+ world. I never expected to actually see him in the show.

Nuts how this is like the third time we've seen Simon's ass. I love how Shermy is just chilling and playing video games while GOLB lets this random old man take a turn at the wheel.

This establishing shot of Fionnaworld shows that it's very small. By the time it is restored at the end of the episode, this ominous white border is gone and there are more buildings, implying that it became a complete world.

I can't believe Gary was thirsting after Scarab in this situation.

There is a shop called Evergree Flowers; likely a reference to the episode Evergreen.

This shop window advertises that you can learn to kick bugs. Appropriately enough, Cake kicks Scarab through this shop window while in her Godzilla form.

The Betty statue has become GOLBetty.

It should be clear by this point that Casper and Nova are a parallel to Simon and Betty, with all of their decisions being made by Casper with little consideration for Nova due to their unbalanced power dynamic. This is why Simon realises that he should have been more considerate of Betty's dreams, rather than single-mindedly chasing the Enchiridion and the crown.

The credits confirm that genderswapped Ash is named Ashley. I wonder what happened to her after she fell into the void. Probably nothing good.

Poor Marshall never gets to finish his songs. Truly he is the genderswapped Marceline.

The name "GOLBetty" is now canon; Simon uses it in this scene.

I'm not sure what's happening to GOLBetty here. A loose thread to pick up if this story ever gets a continuation, perhaps.

Simon steps through several different universes, including all the ones we saw during this miniseries. I'm not sure what this world full of tiny bears is meant to be.

Some kind of industrial capitalist hell universe.

This is the Water Park Prank artstyle, implying that Water Park Prank takes place in a separate but canon universe. So Water Park Prank is now canonically canonical! (what a ridiculous phrase)

Some kind of Jake universe.

A universe featuring Magwood and his volcano lair, from the episode Evergreen.

The snail! It's not dead after all. And it's a great way of symbolising a return to regular Ooo, as is the reappearance of the smiley butterfly.

This was a strange selection of characters. I hope Jay hasn't left his younger siblings on their own if their dad is dead. At least baby Finn won't have to grow up in Vampworld, though part of me liked imagining what that would have been like.

Fionna mentions that his is her top fantasy. The other two of her top three fantasies were Cake being able to talk and a kingdom made of candy.

She gets a hammer, like she had in the dream sequence at the very beginning of the miniseries.

Kheirosiphon goes back to working in a teashop, just like he did on The Drift before he was imprisoned by Scarab. Also Marshall's outfit here is incredibly gay, it's great.

There is an ad here for a daddy issues themed comedy night. Sounds like Marceline's kind of place.

Prismo's face glitches for a second. Ominous.

Simon definitely needs to move out. This is probably an even more important realisation than coming to understand his influence over Betty.

In the credits of this episode, Simon is finally at peace.

And with that, the miniseries is over! Back to the long wait. Will this be it for Adventure Time? Or is there yet more to come...

#adventure time #fionna and cake #easter egg posts

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hadesisqueer · 5 months ago

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I’m here to be different from the trolls and actually ask you something interesting. Do you agree or disagree with Miguel and the canon events?

Oh boy. Alright.

I sympathize with Miguel, and I find him a very complex and interesting character who, even though he knows his methods are far from exactly right, genuinely thinks he's doing the right thing and everything for the greater good. But no, I don't exactly agree with him when it comes to the whole canon events thing.

I do think canon events are real to some degree, in the sense that they are things that the Spideys in different universes tend to experience. However, I do not think that they all have to happen and if they don't and things go differently then everything is broken and that dimension collapses. Mainly because the logic behind that is flawed.

Miguel explains that when he took over his dead counterpart's place, he broke canon. But what canon events did he even disrupt? He doesn't explain it. Unless his daughter was Spider-Woman there and his death was supposed to be her Uncle Ben moment, it doesn't seem like he actually broke any canon events at all. But his daughter was a little girl and she likely hadn't even been bitten yet, so it seems unlikely because it like the whole canon things happen after you're bitten. It doesn't make a lot of sense.

You can argue that Pavitr's dimension started unravelling after Miles breaking his canon event, but it doesn't make full sense, either. It seems like it took a while for his daughter's dimension to get destroyed after Miguel allegedly broke the canon, and Pavitr's starts immediately after? Right after the stunt the Spot, a multiversal threat with dimensional powers, pulled? Miles was right, it makes more sense to think that that was the Spot's fault than his.

Also, if according to Miguel, Miles should have never been Spider-Man and his whole existence goes against canon, how come his dimension hasn't been destroyed? How come Prowler Miles' dimension is still there if he wasn't bitten like he was 'supposed' to be? Absolutely no canon events have happened in Earth 42, and-- it's fine, no black holes? And why does Miles even have to experience canon events if according to Miguel he's an anomaly? Plus if we're being technical Peter Parker's Spider-Man already experienced those canon events, all that already happened to one of the Spider-Men in 1610, so why do they have to happen twice, now to the kid who again wasn't even supposed to be Spider-Man according to Miguel?

Even in Gwen's case. That's the most subtle yet clearest example of the fact that nothing really happens if canon is 'broken'. He quits and stops being captain. Which means that a canon event isn't going to happen now, because the police captain that was supposed to die was her father. And now he's not captain anymore. Did something happen? Did a horrible black hole open up and started swallowing everything the moment he said those words? No. Nothing happens. And Gwen realizes that, too. And that's when she fully confirms that the whole 'everyone has to experience these canon events by force or everything will go to shit' is actually a bunch of bullshit. Because canon was just technically changed, and everything was still fine.

Again, I think Miguel truly believes he's doing the right thing. But his logic is flawed and he's too blinded by his own grief and guilt to see that.

#spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #pavitr prabhakar #miles morales #gwen stacy #spider gwen

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playedcrowd5610 · 3 months ago

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10 of My 'Haunting the Nemesis' - Canon Headcanons

Because I am the author, and I have a lot of headcanons for this series that I never managed to bring to fruition or didn't seem very clear in the series, I'm posting a bunch of them here! I hope you like it.

Also, because I am the author, these HCs are all now 100% canon! But please share your own headcanons for this series as well. I would love to hear them. <3 (I might even end up making them canon as well.)

1.Knockout has Danny's phone number saved in his com-link contacts as "Scratch Magnet."

2. Danny, Knockout, and Breakdown go to a drive-in theatre every Friday night, and they each take turns picking the movie. (This was shown a little bit in the 'KO Drive-in' Chapter, but because that series is non-canon, I wanted to make it clear this movie night is, in fact, canon.)

3. Danny grabbing Jack's face to check on him in chapter 7 of 'Falling Stars' was Jack's Gay/Bi awakening. (I saw this as a few comments and could not stop laughing at the mental image. And I also got fan art of it. So sure, it's canon now. It won't have a part in the story, though, because it is not a ship, just an awakening. - Though if someone wants to make a work off of that, it's fine by me)

4. Danny can sense how old Cybertronians are in their maturity through their sparks. Which is why he calls Bumblebee "kid" in that one scene in 'Crushed Bug.' In comparison to Cybertronian age, Danny would be just older or the same age as Bee.

5. Danny is the king of the dead, and even though he doesn't actively rule, he has the right to the throne. Also, because of this, he has the ability to learn any language very quickly because, as king of the infinite realms, he needs to be able to learn the languages of thousands of universes as new ghosts keep popping into the zone. (I have covered this in a previous response post, but I also wanted to put it here.)

6. Danny is, in fact, immortal. He is not sure of this fact yet, but it is true. He will age naturally until he reaches his peak, and then he will simply stop ageing. Whether that is by his human form dying and him becoming a full ghost or if his human form stays with him as well is still being decided. (It was touched on in the Jazz chapter, but it wasn't confirmed. But Danny gets to live with his Cybertronain friends for much longer now!)

7. Ghost cores and sparks are almost identical in how they work and feel. This makes it very easy for ghosts and Cybertronians to connect and feel each other's emotions just as they would for their own species.

8. Danny calls Laserbeak his brother and calls Soundwave dad jokingly often, especially when Laserbeak calls him out when he's hurt. "Oh, come on! You snitched on me to Dad! Not cool."

9. One day, Knockout dumped a bunch of energon on Danny just to "See what it would do," and Danny ended up glowing like a glowstick for 3 days afterward. - Now, Knockout believes this is how all humans react when exposed to energon. XD

10. Soundwave did originally have his other mini-cons at the beginning of the war (Rumble, Frenzy, and Ravage), but after the years of fighting and war, only Laserbeak is left. This is one of the reasons he has gotten so over-protective with Danny; he doesn't want to lose another baby.

These apply to Haunting the Nemesis only and not Adopticons.

Thanks for reading my headcanons! If you want more, I may make another post. Love you all! Let me know if you have any of your own. Have a good rest of your week. <3

Ao3: Haunting the Nemesis

#danny phantom #crossover #transformers #Haunting the Nemesis #headcanons #transformers prime #energon #10 things #I love these little guys so much #I can't explain how obsessed I am with them #HTN Headcanons #ao3

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meganooooooooooooooo · 4 months ago

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What is the Devouring Storm?

With this past week's devastating news of post-Veilguard layoffs has pretty much put the nail in the coffin on any future Dragon Ages in the near or far future, if at all, I wanted to discuss what the writers were planning next for the series. Because Veilguard pretty clearly tells you, if you bother to find it. So, going forth will obviously be spoilers, and I hope people who want to make canon-accurate fanworks use this information the way I think the writers intended for us to.

So, the situational post-credits scene reveals that The Executors/Those Across the Sea are finally making a play for Thedas. But why? We've known something has been fishy in Theodas (which is what I like to call The Other Dragon Age Setting) since Origins. But we've never had so much information about what, exactly, might be going on there before.

What do we know about Dragon Age's other continent?

Anyone who has ever tried to travel there has either been turned back or were lost at sea, including Alistair's father, King Maric.

The Qunari travelled to Thedas from there, and were fleeing something. We now know that something is The Devouring Storm, and that they altered their own bodies with dragon blood to try to stop it and failed. Modern Qunari have forgotten this, though they still teach their navigators to watch for it.

In a letter to Bellara from Emmrich, he says the lands across the sea are described as either a verdant natural paradise or full of dead cities.

Aside from The Executors, who are considered little more than a conspiracy theory by most people in Thedas, one other group has made contact: the Voshai. The Voshai are mostly dwarves (but no elves) who used to come to the city of Laysh in the Anderfels to trade. The only thing they came to trade for was magical artifacts, particularly lyrium. There are rumours from the time of the Inquisition that the Voshai have returned to Laysh after a cataclysm in their homeland, but these rumours have not been confirmed.

We know the name of one other place there, Amaranth, but I can't find any more than that.

The Evanuris appear to have used the threat of Those Across the Sea as justification for their tyrannical rule, and at least some of their fear seems to be genuine. In the codex entry "Urthemiel's Shield" it's revealed that the Archon's palace was created at the bidding of the Old Gods (aka the Evanuris) not to shoot at their own people, but to defend against Those Across the Sea.

The Mysterious Circle codex entries describe encounters with Those Across the Sea, both their magic and likely one of the Executors. The Executor's body is described as "changing and shifting" though not in a shapeshifter way, more like their bodies don't know how to hold their own corporeal form.

Notes on a Mystery Substance

Now we come to what I think are probably the most important series of codex entries in the game, Notes on a Mystery substance. There are three of them, found throughout Arlathan Forest.

The gist of these entries is this: Written by the Forgotton One Anaris, it details the discovery of a strange golden substance by one of his subordinates? rivals? (it's not clear but he doesn't like the guy), Atrahel. Anaris runs tests on the substance and finds that provides great magical power but nullifies all other known sources of magic. In fact, he describes it as a "magic that devours all others." Anaris, being an asshole, decides to test it on Atrahel without him knowing. It makes him stronger even than the Evanuris, but alters his personality significantly. Atrahel eventually where Anaris has kept the rest of the substance and consumes it completely. His physical form changes and he essentially becomes the magical equivalent of an atomic bomb, blowing up and destroying himself and any other elves who happened to be nearby. Only Anaris survives, and he runs away before the Evanuris come to investigate.

The Devouring Storm

So, if we take all this information together, I can say with confidence that the Devouring Storm is this magic that devours all other magic. Not only that, but that the Executors have probably consumed all the other magic in that part of the world. And what does Thedas still have a lot of? Magic. Raw magic from the Fade, spirits, lyrium, probably even the Blight. And The Executors not only want it, they probably need it.

This explains a lot of things about what little we know about this part of the world.

The fact that the Voshai are dwarves that have never seen lyrium before would suggest that a. Titans once existed there and b. they have been consumed.

Why the Qunari fled their homeland, their extreme fear of magic, and why they had to make the adaari to fight them. (You can't fight magic that devours all other magic with magic, after all, it only makes them stronger.)

Why The Executors have had a vested interest in the Veil staying intact since the Inquisitor: the Fade would be partially or completely destroyed if it came down, and a not intact Fade is worthless to them. Even if you believe Solas's plan would not have destroyed the Fade (it would though), the Veil would still need to stay up to make it more difficult for The Executors to devour both the Fade and probably the Blight (and who knows what that would do to them).

Why the cities across the sea are described as dead.

If we believe that the many prophecies we've been given are either spirits or sleeping Titans (or both) giving people warnings about this, it explains why: they don't want to get eaten!

Personally, I think this is pretty interesting, definitely much more interesting than the ending credits scene suggests. Does it mean that the Qunari didn't have magic before they came to Thedas? (That would explain a lot). What is a world where nobody at all has access to the realm of dreams like? How the heck are you supposed to fight magic that devours everything?

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers #dragon age meta #the executors #the devouring storm

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lilyflowerstories · 1 month ago

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My Girl, Forever and Always | 1

Summary: The Avengers' knew everything about their captain. He didn't like to hide, not when he was the leader. But a pretty face from Steve's time before ice has them facing the only and biggest mystery of Steve.

Warnings for the Series: Hurt/comfort. Violence. Not Canon Compliant. Racism (not overt but still there)

Important Warnings for this Part: none.

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Steve Rogers x black!reader, 40s!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: the title is pending. I had a strong desire to write for Marvel again. Idek dude. But enjoy!

A/N 2: Pet Soldier is being posted and updated on my main blog and I didn't want to detract from that fic so Steve's new fic will be living here!

(Series Masterlist coming soon)

With the Accords settled peacefully and all of the main Avengers right where they belonged in Stark Tower now renamed Avengers Tower, life was just right for the team. Aside from end-of-the-world disasters, they had essentially become a HYDRA and enhanced villains fighting unit. The Avengers weren’t complaining though. SHIELD agents and the lower level Avengers could handle everybody else.

“What movie are we thinking about tomorrow?” Nat asked as they exited the quinjet.

“T’Challa and his family are coming for a visit, brunch would probably be a better option,” Bucky said, taking everyone’s weapons from them for cleaning.

The team debated back and forth on what would be the best option for a large group of people this weekend. Ultimately, Bucky’s idea of brunch was the winner. It was different for them. The Avengers were very used to team dinner but it turned out that cooking for brunch was more difficult than they thought.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Nakia came up behind Shuri and Peter, plucking the mimosa glasses out of their hands.

“We’re eighteen!” They both protested.

“And the Americans have decided the legal age is twenty-one. Have orange juice.” She scowled when T’Challa cheekily poured some whiskey into their coffee mugs, not even trying to hide it.

“Spiderling,” Steve called out with a smile at the scene in front of him. “Keep stirring this for me before Wanda has my head because it burnt.”

“I absolutely will.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I believe you, Wands. Stir it a couple of times per minute, Pete. I’ll be back.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow as she watched Steve walk away. He wasn’t wearing any shoes past house slippers. He was dressed somewhat nicely but still in house clothes. And he didn’t have a bag or wallet on him, at all. Yet, the elevator arrow indicated he was going down instead of up to the floor where his room is. This wasn’t the first or even the fifth time she had caught him in a situation similar to this. Nat set down her cup of coffee.

“Does anyone know where the hell Rogers goes every Saturday?”

The entire team stopped their individual conversations to look from the elevator to the redhead at the counter. It was like a fire had been stoked under all of them as each person confirmed that they had no clue where Steve was going. If there was one person that was an open book and never a mystery, it was their captain. And yet, here was a mystery staring them dead in the face.

“Is he dating?” Clint asked.

Nat shook her head. “Unless it’s been a while, I hope not. Rogers left in pajamas and house slippers. I wouldn’t be impressed if my date showed up like that.”

Bucky snorted as he put the creamer back in the fridge. “If he was dating, I would know.”

“Good point… But what if?”

“Maybe it’s a secret family like yours, Barton.” Shuri pointed to the picture of Clint’s family that he hung up in the living room gallery area now that everyone knew the truth.

“Why am I always the one pointed to for a secret family? T’Challa had a whole hidden country. We didn’t even know Sam had nephews until last year.”

Sam shook his head. “I wasn’t hiding anyone. My sister lives more than a few states away.”

Bucky nodded. “He’s right, totally different scenario. But speaking of Wilson…”

“Stop flirting with my sister.”

“Speaking of Wilson,” Bucky continued, pointedly ignoring his friend. “You should go follow him. You’re the only person that doesn’t automatically trigger Steve’s little suspicious senses.”

The entire team nodded and vocalized their agreements. They had all met Steve as co-workers that he was too tuned into them. Anytime they showed up unexpectedly, he automatically questioned if there was a surprise mission. And while he didn’t do that with Bucky, Steve was just always aware of his friend’s movement. He was hardwired to always find and take care of him. But Sam was a 21st century friend.

Steve didn’t need to look out for him. Out of anything, it was the other way around. The city and time period were Sam’s domain and he always seemed to know somebody no matter where they went. The team assured Sam that if anyone could follow Steve with no problem, it would be him.

He might have put up a fuss but Sam was just as nosey as the rest of them about where Steve was going all the time. He chuckled as he headed towards the elevator. The team was already making bets about what was going to be discovered.

“FRIDAY, can you take me to the last floor Steve stopped on. And let’s not tell him about this one.”

“Certainly.”

Sam rocked slightly when the elevator jolted on its home. He watched the numbers go by, expecting to land on the ground floor or the garage levels like most of the team predicted. His eyebrow raised when the elevator suddenly stopped on the fifth floor. What was Steve doing in the hospital wing? He seemed just fine coming off the quinjet yesterday. More than fine actually. He was the only one aside from Thor who came out of the fight without a single scratch on him.

Carefully, he stepped out of the elevator and took a look at the reception sign-in sheet. Amongst the many names of spouses of various agents, Sam spotted ‘Steven Rogers’ written neatly at both the top and bottom of the list of sign-ins. Curiosity got the best of him. Flipping through the small stack of sign-in sheets in the binder, he spotted Steve’s name. It was written near the top and bottom of every single paper. Like clockwork. And in every column asking the reason for sign-in two words were written: Visiting wife.

Sam almost ran before calming down once he spotted Steve out of the corner of his eye. The man was carrying a trash bag in one hand and what looked to be a notepad in the other. The blonde smiled as he got closer.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Is everything alright upstairs?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m supposed to be visiting one of my veterans this weekend and her grandkids have taken to playing doctor. They asked me to get the good gauze from our med bay. The real stuff apparently. I’m seeing if Cho will let me swipe some.”

Steve chuckled. “Just tell her you need it cause one of you idiots got hurt sparring again.”

“Honestly, might just get it from Stark and Banner’s lab. Bruce is a lot less annoying about inventory. Need any help?”

“Yeah, thanks. I have to run to the store real quick. Do you mind saving my brunch. Promise I’ll be back before anyone can accuse me of skipping team bonding.”

“Eh, it’s not even done yet,” Sam said, leading the way back to the elevators.

“Really?”

“They’re going back and forth over pancakes or french toast casserole.”

“My vote is for pancakes.”

“I’ll be sure to mark it.”

Sam waited for Steve to leave the elevator, actually on the ground floor this time, before going back up. The elevator almost felt like it wasn’t going fast enough. Sam had all the details he needed to spill before their captain came back.

“Hey, Nat, are you sure he was in pajamas?” Sam asked as he dropped the trash bag down the shute that led to the dumpsters.

“Absolutely positive, why?”

“Because he was fully dressed when I spotted him.”

“Seriously.”

Sam nodded. “Jeans, hat, hoodie, tennis shoes. No pajamas anywhere. Oh, and I found him in the hospital wing.”

“Capsicle needed the hospital?” Tony asked. “Since when?”

“He wasn’t there for him. You won’t believe what was written on the sign-in sheet. He was visiting his wife.”

“WIFE?!”

They nearly choked on their food. Sam told them in way too much detail how his last ten minutes had gone, including how he was positive the notepad in Steve’s hand was a shopping list. The entire team practically ran when FRIDAY informed them that Steve had returned. It was hard to keep quiet and honestly they didn’t care. Now that they knew where he was, they were willing to strongarm their captain if they had to.

They kept following him past the standard area of the medical bay. To be expected. They rarely came to this area if they got hurt. However, the team was confused when he kept walking past the private Avengers area of the hospital floors. Tony had assumed it was all staffing offices and break rooms once they got past the Avengers area. The hospital never had interesting cctv footage that it never occurred to him to check it out, leaving it for the security guards and FRIDAY to handle.

This new area was even nicer than the Avengers unit. There were fewer rooms and nearly every single one of them was empty aside from the few nurses or doctors taking naps. Tony could have assumed they were in fact in the staff area but each space they passed has medical equipment in them.

“Maybe it’s an overflow area,” Vision murmured.

“But the Avengers unit and the standard area aren’t even at half capacity.”

Okoye stopped everyone from rounding the corner until Steve had entered whatever room he was looking for.

Carefully, they crept closer. They made sure to angle their bodies so they could still see inside but without being spotted. Steve pulled back the curtain on the window, tying them up so the sun could shine in after setting down all his shopping bags. It was a nice day outside so he let the fresh air in as well. The team spotted a bed in the corner. The sheets weren’t redone yet. Did Steve sleep down here?

They watched their captain fold up the pajamas Nat spotted him in and drop them into a dresser drawer before making the bed and refluffing the decorative pillows on the small couch in the room. There was no other conclusion they could make. Clearly, he stayed here instead of in his room like they all thought. Steve came bounding back over to the hospital bed where the team noticed a woman was laying.

“Let’s check for sores, love.”

Steve carefully lifted you up, mindful of the machinery attached to you. He hummed in satisfaction at the lack of any bed sores. He knew the doctors were checking in on you and he trusted the SHIELD nurses more than anything but he was your primary carer so he had to be sure. With practiced ease, Steve lifted you and held you close to his body in one hand while laying thick towels over your bed with the other.

He had learned from the head nurse how to give you a proper sponge bath. Even though he wasn’t sure if you could hear him, Steve constantly walked you through the entire process as he covered your body with a warmed towel so you wouldn’t be cold.

He carefully washed one bit of your body at a time. Steve was used to bathing your naked torso underneath the covering that he was sure he could do it in the dark if needed. You were redressed in a new outfit.

“I bought this from a boutique that opened a couple months ago. It’s a lot different from the dress you wore last week. I know I don’t put them on you but I added another pair to your jean collection. Bell bottoms. I don’t know if you’ll like any of them, doll, but the cashiers have been really nice in helping me out. They all think you’re beautiful by the way.

"And they hope you get better soon. If you hate it all, they’ve been letting me keep the receipts under special circumstances. We can go back and switch everything out for stuff you do like, even if it’s from years back.”

Steve removed the warm towel covering once you were fully dressed in a soft sweater the team recognized as his and a white dress that must have been the new item he bought.

“I’m going to do your hair now, okay?”

No matter how many times he’s done it, Steve was always nervous to wash your hair. The nurses said over the years that you were managing to hold your head up somewhat on your own but it never really eased his nerves. There was only so much strength a coma patient could have. He was always worried about your head rolling too far back and you accidentally drowning in the water basin before he noticed.

“Your hair is getting pretty long now,” Steve commented, taking down the cornrows he had done last week. “I’ve trimmed it a few times but I don’t want to cut it until you wake up. Just in case you like it. I told you how Sam’s nephews showed me TikTok last month, right? Well, a cute hairstyle popped up and I think you’ll like it. I couldn’t figure it out myself but there’s a braiding shop two streets over. I think I can do a pretty good recreation if I do say so myself. I have no missions next week so if this doesn’t last long then we can redo it, no problem. I just thought you’d like to not have your headscarf on all the damn time.”

Outside, a few nurses walked by, stopping at the window with all the Avengers. The team looked at the new group that had gathered.

“Isn’t it sweet?” one of them asked the Avengers. “Captain Rogers hasn’t missed a single week if he can help it. I don’t think anyone else has even touched her hair.”

“I wish I had a man that dedicated,” another muttered before all the nurses giggled and continued to wherever they were originally headed.

Steve checked his watch. “I’ve got to go soon, love. Team breakfast. But I’ll be back tonight. Dr. Cho is coming by to check on your vitals. She said we made progress the other day. You were mumbling something. Think you’ll wake up this year? Maybe?”

The team couldn’t quite make out Steve’s tone. He didn’t just sound hopeful or sad but exhausted. Exactly how long had you been in a coma? And when did he even get in a relationship, let alone have a whole wife?

“I can’t believe he found her. That’s not possible,” Bucky whispered, steel-blue eyes never leaving the body in the hospital bed.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Do you know her?” Nat asked, wondering if maybe you were another HYDRA captive.

Bucky nodded. “Y/N L/N.”

“L/N?” T’Challa and Okoye asked. That name rang a bell.

“Yes. Daughter of Wakandan diplomats, wicked good nurse despite only getting war training… Steve’s and my best friend since grade school.”

“Grade school?” Clint’s jaw dropped. “But that means sh—”

“She’s from our time? Yeah. But she’s not a super soldier. At least not when I last saw her.”

Before anyone could stop them, Nakia, T’Challa, Okoye, and Shuri ran into the room to get a closer look at you. Steve was startled, nearly dropping the now empty water basin as he was asked a thousand questions per minute. Despite the entire team pouring into the room with apologetic looks at being caught, Steve was only focused on one person.

“I know I should’ve told you sooner, Bucky.”

“She’s my friend too, Steve.”

“I wanted her to wake up first. There’s still a chance they have to pull the plug. I didn’t want you to go through that heartbreak again. Not after everything else that’s happened.”

“That’s my decision to make.”

“I know. I’m sorry, really.”

Bucky shook his head, finally entering the room. He reached for your hand, caressing it gently. Everyone noticed how he immediately reached for you with his metal arm. Even with the new vibranium one, he was careful around people. But Bucky automatically went to you with it.

“I’m not happy you did it but I understand. How is she even here?”

Steve hesitated. “We, uh, we both went into the ice.”

Bucky squeezed your hand tightly, apologizing even though you couldn’t respond. “What?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Great,” Nakia interrupted. “You can explain this long story once she’s moved.”

“Moved?”

Shuri reached for the clipboard by your bed with all of Dr. Cho’s notes, sighing. “Nakia, wait. She’s too fragile to take back to Wakanda. Steve! Why did you not tell us sooner? We could have taken her home!”

“She’s one of us. Did you not think we would have wanted to know?” Okoye argued.

Steve scratched the back of his head. “I… forgot about that.”

“Forgot?”

“Well, I’ve been doing this routine since I was thawed out. A lot has happened and by the time we met you guys, I sort of forgot.”

Shuri pinched the bridge of her nose. “At least we know now. Can you move her to the lab? I think we can still help her. We just have to improvise.”

“I can do that,” Steve said, nodding. “Buck, will you take all the shit she’s hooked up to.”

“On it.”

Everyone stayed out of their way, letting the two super soldiers get on the elevator alone so nothing connected to you got tangled up. Shuri had already called her best scientists and doctors by the time they made it to Tony and Bruce’s lab. Steve nodded, gratefully, when she informed him that the team would be there tomorrow.

“Have you really been sleeping down there the entire time?” Tony asked as he helped clear out part of the lab so there was proper space for everyone to work.

“I couldn’t let my wife be alone all this time.”

Bucky snorted. “She know you two are married? I don’t see a ring yet, Stevie. She’ll chew you out for saying that.”

“So, it’s fine when she calls me her husband but I can’t do the same?”

“Well, Y/N’s always been the charmer, not you.”

“Whatever.”

✭

#marvel fic #mcu fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #captain america x reader #40s!steve x reader #40s!steve rogers #pre serum steve #pre serum steve x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers hurt/comfort

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darknight3904 · 5 days ago

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Every Breath You Take

Chapter Nine- Wildflowers

Summary: Wildflowers are gathered for your companions as you and the brothers get closer to Boston.

Warnings for this part: Canon typical death violence, themes, language, gore, and horror. Check the Series Masterlist for expanded warnings.

Word Count 1.8K

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / The Last of Us Masterlist

Two days later, August 2005, Southeast Massachusetts

Joel watches from afar as his brother wades into the river. The water had been a refreshing sight after sweating it out for the past few days in the car. You were sitting on a rock on the riverbank, hands clasped together as the water rushed over your bare feet, running shoes discarded somewhere in the tall grass.

Joel sighs, resting under the shade of the huge tree he’d sat down under. It’d been a rough 48 hours. He stares down at the mess of blood and mud that stains his jeans and makes a mental note to try to find a new pair before you all reach whatever the military has set up in Boston.

“C’mon out, the current ain’t strong.” His brother’s voice reaches his ears

Joel watches him beckon to you on your rock, unmoving, and hands still folded in your lap.

The infected had come out of nowhere. One minute he was helping Lara hold the gun, the next he was being tackled to the ground by a snarling, screaming monster. He’s still not sure how they managed to get the drop on him; all he could remember now was how loud Lara had screamed while he fumbled for the knife he had strapped to his leg. He can still smell the infected now if he closes his eyes, the way it growled and tried to snap at the soft skin of his neck. Joel can hear the way the gun fired into the air as she blindly shot at the one that had pushed her to the forest floor.

Tommy had shown up just a moment too late, barelling through the trees like some superhero from a shitty action movie, he’d kicked the infected off Joel, putting it down with a single shot to the head. But the damage had already been done.

It’s a scene that will probably live in all of your heads forever. When the smoke had cleared and the last infected was finally dead, Joel had been the first one to see it. Lara was on the ground, holding baby George so tightly that Joel was sure she had smothered him at first. Anguished cries filled the once serene forest as he walked to her, peering over her shoulder for just a moment. Joel feels a shudder wrack his spine even now as he tries to scrub the image from his mind.

A large bite mark on the child’s neck marred his once-perfect baby skin, spelling death as Lara desperately tried to hold the blood that was oozing out. He wouldn’t walk among the infected, it was too deep, he’d bleed out no matter what she did. Somewhere in his mind the image of Lara and George blends into what he can decipher as Sarah’s choking that fateful night as he held her tight to his body, wishing there was something he could do.

Tommy had tried to keep you from seeing it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Joel could hear his brother grab you and try to keep you away from the gruesome scene. You of course resisted, twisting out of his arms so you could take it all in, be as traumatized as he and his brother already were.

He can pinpoint the moment George must’ve died. Lara’s screams confirmed it, even though Joel couldn’t see the baby from where she was over the bloody scene, he’d stumbled back a few paces, nearly tripping on something. At his feet, Joel stares at the overgrown grass and wildflowers that are dirty with blood. A wooden elephant stares back at him, it’s smooth surface stained with a child’s blood. He reaches down, foliage tickling his skin as he picks it up.

Lara deserves this, a memorial to her son, Joel turns, wanting to give it to her, to comfort her as she cries even if he can’t do much, she deserves it. He knows what it is to lose a child, Lara will never be the same. The loss of Sarah had ripped him in half. Joel’s sorry she’s experiencing this loss so young, still a child herself.

The elephant tumbles from his grasp, when he sees it, the silver flash of the gun’s muzzle. He lunges for the handgun, Lara’s name on his lips as he crashes into her.

He lands on his stomach on the forest floor, he’s knocked the wind out of himself, landing badly on his arm, a groan leaving his lips. He can feel his ears ringing even now, the scent of gunpowder and blood as he turned his head.

Joel’s brown eyes meet blue ones. Normally, they’re bright, sparkling when the sun hits them just right, but something is wrong; they’re duller than they should be. There's screaming, but Lara’s lips are unmoving; they’ll never move again, but Joel doesn’t realize that just yet.

You watch the water lap over your feet. In any other universe, it’d be refreshing, a welcome feeling after two days of driving cooped up with two grown men who redefined the term body odor altogether.

Instead, all you can feel is the pit of dread that has opened in your stomach. You want to vomit, but there's nothing left in your stomach. You dry heave into the water, nearly choking on your saliva as Tommy stands beside you, hand running up and down your back as he pulls your hair back.

Tommy eases you into the water, letting you lean against your rock as he cleans the past few days from your body. Somewhere, you hear Joel yelling for you both to hurry up, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything back.

That night, Tommy held you tight to his chest, Joel’s snores filling the car as you tried to sleep. Soothing circles are rubbed into your back as you shift aimlessly. Tommy’s still awake, you know from his uneven breaths.

You suppose you could talk to him, but what was there to say? Every time you shut your eyes, you could still see it, replaying in slow motion as if your mind was simply there to mock you. The way the gun had gleamed in the sunlight just before the trigger was pulled, Lara’s wild eyes meeting yours, the same way they had in that forest so many months ago. Only this time, you cared about her; she wasn’t some starving girl who had stolen from you; she was yours, your friend, your traveling companion, family even.

The trigger is pulled no matter how much you will her to stop in your mind. You’d been frozen to your spot, Joel had reacted first, just a hair too late as she pulled the trigger while he lunged, attempting to stop it all.

The grave had been jarring. No one had shovels, so you let Lara rest with George in her arms, and you arranged brilliant white wildflowers around them, and by the end of it, even the nasty wound on George’s neck had been covered. Lara’s wild red hair was arranged neatly to hide the oozing wound in her temple, skin pale as her freckles practically glowed in the sunlight. They looked like they were resting, just a girl and a baby asleep in a patch of wildflowers. Perhaps if you wish hard enough, they’ll wake up and laugh about the way the petals tickle their skin, tell you you’re silly for jumping to conclusions.

You let your eyes fall shut again, listening to the rain that has begun to fall as you whisper a final goodbye to Lara and George.

August 2007 Boston

Fuck hiking. You were so sick and tired of this, god, you missed cars. Joel’s hulking figure led the way as your feet tiredly dragged along the road. He and Tess were talking about something, their voices a jumbled mess as you tried to keep up with them.

Tommy was next to you, talking about some bird he just saw. You loved your boyfriend but sometimes you wished he’d just shut his damn mouth. Here you were dying of heat stroke and he was jabbering about some cardinal he saw.

You were only out of the QZ because Tess claimed she’d made contact with some men who claimed to want to trade with them. Frankly you thought it was a load of bullshit. She’d been wrong before, and you’d watched Joel and Tommy pay the price; the latter would show up with a busted lip and black eye every once in a while. You had no idea what Joel looked like, his apartment being on the other end of town. All you knew was that if Tess was going to keep using the Miller brothers as her personal muscle, she was going to have to start getting things right and not let them walk into traps constantly.

You don’t really like Tess. Not even because she periodically got Tommy’s ass beat, he did that himself by following her around. You weren’t sure what it was, there was just something about her. In return, she didn’t exactly like you. Of course, it wasn’t anyone's fault.

You can’t get along with everyone.

The words your mother had said to you when you were seven and came home crying that two girls at school didn’t like you echo in your mind.

The people you were out to meet were named Bill and Frank. Two men who lived in a fenced-off place named Lincoln. Tommy had told you a week ago, you had insisted on tagging along despite not usually being directly involved with the smuggling, and yet you wanted this one. You had told Tess just before you left the QZ that it was probably bullshit and she’d given you a funny look before saying,

“Only one way to find out.”

Yet, here you were eating your words as you gazed at the fence surrounding a sleepy little town. Tommy stands next to you, nudging you with his elbow,

“You’re real quiet today, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes narrow in on some wildflowers that have sprouted out of a crack near the fenceline. Joel and Tess are conversing with Bill and Frank, it looks like you do have new trading partners. A scowl forms on your face as you step away from Tommy. Somewhere a a girl and her baby are decaying in a patch of dead wildflowers. You rub your temples tiredly, you need an excuse to get him off your back, or he’ll worry. Today marks two years since she’d died, and you’re not sure if Tommy even knows what day it is.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

Your right hand fiddles in your pocket, the smooth wooden elephant soothes your nerves as one of the men, Frank, greets you with a big smile on his face. You link your arm to Tommy’s, playing the part of a girl with no baggage as you smile back.

The wildflowers blow mockingly in the wind as you walk past them.

Next Part

And so we have reached the end of part one of this story.

Joel lovers, your time is coming, there's smut next chapter with Tommy though, so it's not your moment yet...

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter; I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@freythecrazyfae @rae-gar-targaryen @keseqna @eniepascal @jakecockley @aphroditesblunt @soberbabes @daisyhams

@h0neylemon @womenlover0 @ghostofseattle

#joel miller #tommy miller #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x female reader #fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tommy miller smut #jackson joel x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller slow burn #gabriel luna

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fallenclan · 2 months ago

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(Sunwish LIVES!!! AU) we’re all born fire-starters

(Eyyyyy it’s me it’s oven mitts anon 🥊 with my fanfic about long-dead FallenClan cats. Please keep me on anon. Using this author’s note up here to say that the title is taken directly from the lyrics of the song The Start of Something by Action Item, but the song that much more heavily inspired this piece is Because Dreaming Costs Money, My Dear by Mitski. Also I know that lollipop anon’s the worry box is fanfiction but it’s so so good and my brain keeps treating it like it’s 100 Percent Canon and that’s why while writing this Stormsight’s characterization is very much based off of his personality in the worry box. I can’t say the same about Sunwish though, I freestyled for her lol)

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‘With no need for a beginning, nor any reason to end, the music continues. And so, no matter who you are, where you came from, what sins you have committed or hurt you have endured… when you are alone and there is no universe left to remember you.

You can always, always rewrite your song.’

—Light From Uncommon Stars, Ryka Aoki

———

“Why do you hate me?”

Sunwish stopped in her tracks. Her whiskers twitched. She did a quick once-over of the medicine den and found no one. No one except, of course, herself- and a little apprentice who was supposed to be sorting herbs but was instead dawdling, staring wide-eyed at her with a bristling tail.

Upon confirming that he couldn’t have been speaking to anyone else, Sunwish sighed, “Great StarClan, Stormpaw, where do you kits learn to say such nonsense?”

What a ridiculous idea. She doesn’t hate the boy. She was there when he was born- inspected each of his littermates and confirmed to their mother that they were all healthy. Besides, she probably physically couldn’t hate him, since she was not keen on getting her ears scratched out by her own apprentice. Silverbelly adored her little brother, and Sunwish adored Silverbelly, and therefore as a rule, Sunwish had to be fond of Stormpaw as well.

An old, familiar hurt made itself at home in her heart- honestly, just because she doesn’t bother to smile or laugh often, just because she wasn’t amusing or easy to like- she doesn’t mean to be unlikeable on purpose. If only they would understand-

Stormpaw, evidently not satisfied with Sunwish’s answer, was still dawdling. Sunwish was used to Stormpaw, the enthusiastic, diligent apprentice. She was not at all used to Stormpaw, the dawdling, moody little apprentice.

Sunwish glared at him, trying to look reasonably stern. She felt suddenly very self-conscious and worried that she looked instead like she hated him passionately, so her glare became a feeble one and she settled for mimicking his blank stare. “Stormpaw, your sister will be very cross with you if she comes back and finds that you have not finished your work. Focus, now.”

Stormpaw halfheartedly returned to his herbs, shuffling the horsetail into a loose little pile. Success.

An issue still remained, that Sunwish was not particularly pleased with the look on his face. Trying to get rid of it at once, Sunwish clarified, “I don’t hate you, kit. I don’t even dislike you.”

Stormpaw mumbled.

“Speak up,” said Sunwish. “I’m old.”

This was objectively false, but an apprentice wouldn’t know any better.

“You hate training me,” Stormpaw mumbled, though louder now. “Whenever Silverbelly is busy, you never teach me anything! You just kick me out of the den or tell me to go hunt with my littermates.”

Ah.

So.

That was the problem.

Sunwish found herself despairing and wishing, just a little, that it had simply been her personality that had been causing the problem once again.

“You know,” Sunwish tried, “it’s healthy to get fresh air every now and again.”

“I get fresh air! And if you want me out of camp so badly, you could just send me to find herbs!”

“A good work-life balance will do wonders for your life expectancy, kit. I know these things. I’m a medicine cat.”

“Ma’am, I just-”

“I’m sure Holly didn’t live to her old age by spending all day running around finding herbs all day and quizzing herself in her sleep.” Sunwish tapped Stormpaw’s side with her tail. “Which you do, by the way. It’s very annoying. If you can stop talking when you sleep, please do. Anyway, you can go ask her, as soon as you get your work done.”

“Ma’am-”

“Actually, why don’t I finish up for you, hm? Since you’re having so much trouble focusing today. Look at you, Stormpaw, you put nettle with the marigold, and you’re usually never this careless.”

“It’s only there ‘cause I wasn’t finished!”

“And why aren’t you finished? Just take a break, kit. I believe Hailpaw’s going out hunting. Go on and join her, now.”

Sunwish tried nudging the apprentice towards the entrance of the medicine den, only for Stormpaw to bare his teeth at her. “You’re doing it again!” he cried.

Sunwish attempted to blink innocently at him. “Yes, yes, you caught me. I admit it, you’re a very talented hunter, especially for a medicine cat apprentice.” She was hoping the flattery would be enough for Stormpaw to drop the matter, but he simply started lashing his tail in agitation. “The other day, Goldenstar and I shared the rabbit you helped Moonpaw catch. It was so good I was hoping you’d bring me another one. The Clan could always use more prey, besides.”

“The Clan doesn’t need me to hunt,” Stormpaw countered. “Goosepaw and Hailpaw alone could probably feed the whole Clan. Ask Hailpaw to catch you a rabbit. She’s going to be a warrior. It’s her job to catch rabbits.”

Sunwish lowered her voice. “Oh, is that what this is? Did you get into a fight with your sister?”

“No!”

“Or is it Otterslip?” Sunwish said conspiratorially. “He’s a bit annoying, isn’t he?”

“Otterslip is fine. Stop making excuses!”

“You’re making excuses,” Sunwish said, unable to help herself, because she was apparently just as petty as an apprentice. She tried again to nudge Stormpaw out of the den, only for the apprentice to flop to the ground, bringing up a cloud of dust.

Stormpaw sneezed.

“Bless you,” said Sunwish.

Stormpaw didn’t bother to thank her, which was rude. Instead, the apprentice bared his teeth at her again, which looked rather silly from his position on the ground. “I’m not leaving!”

Sunwish sighed. “I know.”

“And I know that you never wanted me to be a medicine cat in the first place, and I’m not leaving until you tell me why!”

Silence.

Sunwish cast one last, desperate look out of the den. Hailpaw and Otterslip were clear out of view. Damnit.

“Alright,” said Sunwish. “Alright.”

Stormpaw squinted at her with great suspicion. “Alright?”

“Sit up straight and I’ll tell you.”

Stormpaw picked himself off the ground and sat up perfectly straight. Sunwish made to nip at his scruff, hoping to pick out the dust that had gathered in his fur.

“And groom your pelt. For StarClan’s sake, Stormpaw, you’re all covered in dust, and are those leaves? You really do spend too much time here.”

Stormpaw shook her off and whacked her face with his tail for good measure. Sunwish sputtered indignantly.

“Well?” Stormpaw demanded.

Sunwish took a deep breath.

When Stormpaw was just a little kitten, there had been a period of time when Sunwish and Silverbelly did not speak to each other except to argue and yell. The subject of contention was, of course, Stormpaw- Stormkit, then- who wanted to be a medicine cat “more than anything else in the world,” as Silverbelly had put it.

Silverbelly had it her way in the end, of course.

Finally, Sunwish forced herself to begin.

“Everyone in the Clan thinks that you’re brilliant.”

The apprentice narrowed his eyes. “And you don’t,” he accused.

“For StarClan’s sake, kit, let me-”

“Well, I don’t care!” Stormpaw said, riled up enough for the fur on his shoulders to bristle. “I don’t need to be brilliant to be useful. Even if I’m not half as talented as you or Silverbelly, I’m still going to be a good medicine cat and help loads of cats ‘cause I’ll work for it. I don’t care if it’ll take me forever to get my name.”

Sunwish put her paw on Stormpaw’s head. She closed her eyes, breathing out a tired little sigh.

“Stormpaw,” she said.

Stormpaw huffed angrily at her. Sunwish drew her paw back, a little wary now. He might bite.

“Stormpaw, you are brilliant,” Sunwish told him, because it was the truth, and not because she was a little afraid he might bite her. He’s never been a bitey sort of kitten, but one never really knows, and his brother Dawnshine used to bite so often that she worried it might run in the family.

She watched the apprentice deflate, the fur on his hackles lowering as his expression turned to confusion. “I don’t doubt your abilities. That’s exactly the problem.”

“What- but… then why…?”

The boy had been talking nonsense earlier, but his words made her heart ache all the same. I don’t need to be brilliant to be useful. She had feared exactly this.

Stormpaw would make a wonderful medicine cat. Not because he has a connection to the stars, not because he’s clever with herbs- but because he cares. He loves learning about herbs. He wants to help cats. Right now, the only thing that makes him is a passionate, precocious apprentice.

That won’t last forever. One day, he’ll be full grown and he’ll have his star-given name, and FallenClan will depend on him- truly depend on him, as more than an apprentice who runs around doing busywork. He’ll be a real medicine cat, and he’ll be as brilliant as everyone says he is. By then, his future will be set in stone. It won’t if he no longer loves being a medicine cat anymore. It won’t matter if patients he couldn’t have saved slip away beneath his paws, if the blood and the loss and the grief and the blame become too heavy to carry. He’ll be brilliant and useful useful useful- too useful to give up without a fight.

Goldenstar is her best friend. But there had been a time when Sunwish had loved Scorchstar, too- had looked up to her, had listened with rapt attention to her stories, had beamed at her old leader as Nettlestem smoothed her fur down as a mother would.

And Scorchstar had told her that she had to be a medicine cat. For the good of the Clan.

Sunwish knows that right now, if she asked, Goldenstar would let her step down. But Sunwish had never been more than mediocre. Sunwish had never been more than bitter and resentful and impatient. If Stormpaw- grown-up, fully-trained Stormpaw, after seasons spent cementing his role in the Clan, proving himself to be caring and brilliant- could Goldenstar let him step down? Could FallenClan? Stormpaw the medicine cat would be good for the Clan. Everything Goldenstar did, everything Scorchstar did, was for the good of the Clan.

Scorchstar had never considered letting Sunwish go, and Sunwish had never been brilliant.

“When I was a kitten, a cat named Wildfang died,” Sunwish began. “Have you heard of her?”

“I- no,” Stormpaw said, taken off guard. “Who was she?”

“She was the medicine cat before me,” Sunwish explained. “When she died, the Clan was left without a healer, and without a cat to speak with StarClan and interpret their signs. There was no one suitable for the role- there were only warriors, and Goldenstar was training to be a warrior. I had not started my training yet, so they had to make do with me.” She couldn’t help the tightness in her throat. “I wanted to be a warrior.” The best in the whole wide world.

Stormpaw made a sympathetic noise. “That must have been hard,” he said softly.

“It was. I was angry for a long, long time.” She still was, most days. But Sunwish wasn’t about to say so to an apprentice. “You take your training very seriously, kit, so you must know that being a medicine cat is difficult. What I don’t think you understand is that it’s just as difficult to stop being a medicine cat. There are so few of us, and the Clan is always in need of a healer. And when you’re in the medicine den for all your apprentice days, and no one bothers to teach you to hunt and fight, it’s much harder to learn warrior skills when you’re older.” Sunwish bent down to nose at the apprentice’s forehead. “Great StarClan, Stormpaw, I know you chose this, but I don’t want you trapped here because of a decision you made when you were a kit. When I was a kitten, I would eat my own whiskers once they'd fallen off.”

“Did they taste good?”

“Not at all.”

“Then I think I’m going to start collecting them. My whiskers, I mean, now that you’ve given me the idea. I’m going to put them in dirt and make them stand straight up, like flowers, and in a few seasons I’m going to show all my whisker-flowers to the new kits and have them help me name them.”

Sunwish snorted. “You’re very odd,” she said dryly.

“No, you are. You ate your own whiskers.” Stormpaw was smiling now, which was a relief. The relief didn’t last long; his expression became more serious. “But I don’t feel trapped, ma’am. I love everything I’m learning right now. You don’t have to worry. I think I would feel trapped, if I had to be a warrior forever.”

“That’s another thing,” Sunwish went on. “I didn’t want you to be a medicine cat, but that didn’t mean I wanted you out of the medicine den forever.” She frowned, her claws flexing against the ground. “It’s the way things are done, but it isn’t right, how we train our medicine cats. Having a little kitten decide on the role they’ll have for the rest of their life, put them in training where they’ll be given quizzes and drills for all of their young life, put them in the face of a real disaster with nothing but tests and memorization to prepare them. No, no. I’d rather have taken you as an apprentice after you’ve completed warrior training first, Stormpaw. Maybe even after you’ve had kits, or an apprentice of your own. So I know that the future medicine cat will be experienced, and used to taking care of other cats.” She sunk her claws into the dusty ground. “...and that they have the skills to return to being a warrior, if things don’t work out.”

Stormpaw’s eyes were alight with understanding. “Is that what Silverbelly did?”

“No, no. She was just like you, kit. Begged me to teach her long before she saw her sixth moon.”

“Did you pitch a fit when she asked, too?” Stormpaw asked wryly.

Shame swirled in her belly. “No,” said Sunwish. “No, I- I agreed. I never said a word against her becoming a medicine cat. I was…” Desperate. Happy. Hopeful, for the first time since Morningbloom. “Selfish. I wanted a kit- any kit- to ask to become a medicine cat. I wanted a replacement so I could step down.”

“But… you didn’t step down. Even though the Clan has Silverbelly now,” Stormpaw pressed. “And now it has me, too. Why don’t you step down?”

Sunwish curled her tail around the apprentice. “Not long after she earned her full name, your sister fell in love.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Stormpaw made a face, half-annoyed, half-amused. “She and Applebranch are really sappy.”

Privately, Sunwish agreed, and she had to resist a smile. Her apprentice and her mate could really be insufferable sometimes.

Instinctively, Sunwish started flicking her tail back and forth. Stormpaw grabbed her tail with his two front paws.

“Stop that,” Sunwish chided, and he let go at once.

“Oh! Sorry!” Stormpaw shrank back, sheepish. “Silverbelly always lets me play with her tail.”

Sunwish understood this. The apprentice was around the same age as Silverbelly’s kits, after all.

Wordlessly, Sunwish stooped low and gave her tail a few slightly agitated licks before she settled down and went on. “Then, not long after that, she became a mother. And then her mother had a second litter.”

“That’s us!” Stormpaw trilled, pleased.

“Yes, kit. It all happened very fast.” Sunwish smiled faintly. “I couldn’t step down, kit. I couldn’t do that to my apprentice. Imagine how hard it would have been to be the Clan’s only medicine cat while trying to be a good mate and a good mother and a good big sister. She was still very young- though I know it doesn’t seem that way to someone your age.”

Sunwish stiffens as Stormpaw shuffles closer, and she manages to relax a bit when the apprentice leans into her side, purring.

“What about when we all have our names?” Stormpaw asked. “Me, my littermates, and Mudpaw and Flypaw and Robinpaw. Will you step down then?”

Sunwish rasped her tongue over the little apprentice’s head. She was still quite determined to get all those leaves out of his fur. “Yes, kit. Yes, most likely. I think I will.”

“And you’ll be a warrior?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll be happy?”

“...yes.”

“Good.” Stormpaw made a noise in the back of his throat, a happy little chrr. He bumps his head against her shoulder, hard enough it hurts a little. “I want the rest of your life to be happy. You didn’t get to choose what you wanted, the first time over… so I hope everything else will be what you want.”

Suddenly, Sunwish can’t breathe. This little apprentice really will be a wonderful medicine cat.

Stormpaw insistently presses up against her shoulder again, looking up at her. “But…”

“Yes?”

“I want to stay a medicine cat apprentice. I don’t want to start warrior training now and come back later. I want to keep doing this. And I want you to teach me things, too.”

“I knew you’d say that, kit,” Sunwish said, fond. “And I promise I’ll start teaching you properly, but I won’t stop sending you out to hunt. I always, always, always want the path of a warrior to be open to you.”

Stormpaw nodded solemnly. Sunwish hoped he understood.

Anything you want, Sunwish would say, if she was a more sentimental cat. Be anything you want, little blue cat. You’ll be a wonderful medicine cat, but you can always, always rewrite your own fate. I’ll fight the stars themselves to make sure you can.

“I’ll also speak to the mentors and see about getting you started with some battle training.”

“Whaaat?” Stormpaw shot her a dismayed look. “But I don’t wanna!”

“Don’t complain, kit. Silverbelly had to do the same. I won’t have a medicine cat who doesn’t know how to defend themself.”

“I’m useless at fighting.”

“All the more reason to train, then.” Sunwish gave the grumbling apprentice one last lick between the ears. She’s decided that her task of grooming him was ultimately futile and that she would never get rid of the leaves in his fur. Later, she would summon Toro, who was quite possibly gifted by the forces of StarClan itself, and Toro will somehow manage to rid the herbs from her son’s pelt, because Toro was in no way a normal cat and was simply built like that. “Now, get off of me and finish sorting those herbs.”

“Yes ma’am.”

———

(Oven mitt anon 🥊 with ANOTHER author’s note, and this one’s to say that “Stormsight talks about herbs in his sleep” is taken directly from the worry box, chapter 4, AKA the chapter that haunts me forever and ever. Everyone go read the worry box.

Also on the list of books everyone should read is Light From Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki, it’s a lovely book with themes of breaking cycles, and also it will make you hungry because it has a lot of tantalizing descriptions of food whenever any character starts eating something. Thinking about how Scorchstar started a cycle and Otterslip continued it… wrote a fic about a world where Sunwish lived and decided to break the cycle she was in and works to become the person she needed when she was younger…

Anyways. CONSTANTLY thinking about how Sunwish was a very very young cat who was tossed into the Very Important med. cat role with no proper mentor, and how her herb stores kept going bad and she kept losing patients because she was a self-taught teenager learning from like, Cat YouTube and Skype calls with the dead and occasionally by doctors from out of town. What if she had lived and fought for better labour laws for her med. cat apprentices. What if she had lived and had fundamentally overhauled the apprentice system in FallenClan, like every apprentice spends a few moons training in EVERY role before the leader decides on a mentor for them or something? Constantly thinking about how Sunwish has the righteous trait… she probably would have done so much good if she only lived longer 🥺

And I miss Stormsight too. 😔 Writing this made me get attached oh my god)

(beetle note: OHHH MY GODDDD FUCK THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!! genuinely this made me tear up.... a Sunwish lived au..... the world could have been so beautiful. i'm now imagining a lovely future where she would have stepped away from being a medicine cat and become a warrior instead. FUCK. this is so so well written i LOVE IT!)

#fallenfic #oven mitts anon #GODDD

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